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"You mean a dog with no cat or horse in him? . Last year, the A's five law-enforcement agents investigated 2, animal-cruelty cases, arrested or get a raccoon out of the attic (seal off the area with ammonia-soaked rags), how to recover a lost gerbil (sprinkle flour around the kitchen cabinets to find its footprints), or rid.
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Get Known if you don't have an account. The Warlock : I am he of empty crib and stillborn foal. I am he whose coming the stars have foretold.
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I am he with heart forged by blackest coal. I am he who makesth whole the glorious goal of Satan's unborn soul! Redferne : There's only one reason he'd need the fat of an unbaptized male child. Kassandra : Why? Redferne : Flying potion. Redferne : to Pastor Our interest lies in stopping those who would see all good falter. It lies in stopping the powers of misrule from coming of age. It lies in finding that damned book and thwarting a vile beast of a man who shall not rest until God Himself is thrown down, and all of Creation becomes Satan 's black, hell-besmeared farting hole!
Kassandra Oh, you mean witch , not which. It is a stale truism that credence, less than character, is the criterion of conviction; and all history shows that the doubters are, in nearly all cases, the most deeply devout. In the midst of the vast Covent Garden property of the Duke of Bedford is wedged a small piece of alien land, on the corner of Bow and Russell streets. It belongs to a certain Clayton estate, and is covered by three houses, which are worth more to us than all the potentialities of marketable wealth hereabout.
These three houses formed but one building, at the time of erection; which was late in the last or early in the present century, as we may be convinced by every architectural point of proof without and within. Of the three houses into which this block of buildings has been divided, the corner house remains entirely unaltered. Its neighbour, in Bow Street—now a swarming tavern—has suffered somewhat at the hand of the modern restorer.
It retains, on its upper floor, a small barred cell, formerly set apart for some exclusive or elusive prisoner from Bow Street station, just at hand. The house which chiefly concerns us, No. Such as it was, it became the next home of the Lambs, in At that time they had lived for nine years in their chambers in Inner Temple Lane, and it is strange that they should have been willing to leave their beloved Temple, after having been born into it again, and after having grown up in it again.
Mary told Dorothy Wordsworth that the rooms had got dirty and out of repair, and that the cares of living in chambers had grown more irksome each year.
More weighty among their motives, no doubt, was the desire to escape the incessant invasion of their privacy by welcome, and yet unwelcome, friends. From this wear and tear they were not freed by their flight, however. Mary had not been here four-and-twenty hours before she saw a thief.
She sits at the window working; and, casually throwing out her eyes, she sees a concourse of people coming this way, with a constable to conduct the ceremony. Besides these novel sights, they found strange sounds in their new abode. I quite enjoy looking out of the window, and listening to the calling up of the carriages, and the squabbles of the coachmen and link-boys. Here they lived until , these six years filled with increasing prosperity, with comparative comfort, with happy friendships, with his best work, with sudden fame.
His income had slowly increased with each added year of service in the East India House, and the earnings of his literary work swelled it slightly. That work had never yet received its recognition. It was collected and published in two handsome volumes in , and the reading world of that day suddenly awakened to see in the obscure clerk, plodding daily to his desk in Leadenhall Street, its most delicate humourist, its most acute critic, its most perfect essayist.
Yet he not only was not allowed to attend to literary labour, but he complained that he could not even write letters at home, because he was never alone; and had to seize odd moments for all such writing at his office and from his work in East India House. So his growing need and his growing want to be alone were never gratified.
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All the morning I am pestered—evening company I should always like, had I any mornings, but I am saturated with human faces divine , forsooth and voices all the golden morning I am never C. He who thought it not good for man to be alone, preserve me from the more prodigious monstrosity of being never by myself. Knock at the door; in comes Mr. Burney, or Morgan Demi Gorgon, or my brother, or somebody to prevent my eating alone—a process absolutely necessary to my poor, wretched digestion.
Oh, the pleasure of eating alone! All this was a ceaseless drain on his vitality, and a ceaseless strain on the nerves already so overstrung. You need never twice speak to him. Such were the tremulous nerves which seemed to need the stimulus of alcohol, and which were so easily swayed and upset by it. The lachrymose and dolorous tones of Respectability are forever croaking loud in lamentation that Lamb was a Drunkard.
It is not true. He was no drunkard. He could not have been a drunkard with his delicate organization. I believe that he suffered, unknowingly withal, from the malady now named nervous dyspepsia; to which he was a victim, partly by inheritance, largely by his own indiscretions. He was careless in his habits, in his diet, in his exercise—walking often at unfitting hours and for excessive hours—and he had no regard at all for any sort of proper precautions.
He audaciously claimed for himself the stomach of Heliogabalus!
Like Thackeray, he had the courage of his gastronomic convictions, and he has left an imperishable record of his love for roast pig, cow-heel, and brawn. I hate a man who swallows it, affecting not to know what he is eating; I suspect his taste in higher matters.
Conscientious in his cultivation of these admirably abnormal appetites; fond of heavy, late suppers; addicted to too much tobacco; with friends forever to the fore to interest, stimulate, and thus unnerve him; and with the unceasing terror that hung over their home and gave it its profound depression, it is small wonder that he found in alcohol just what he needed, and just what he should not have depended upon! He would tipple at times, and now and then he did get drunk, I do not deny; but never twice in the same house, as he truthfully assured a lady! That was a redeeming habit, surely.
The fact, put in a word, is that he was affected by incredibly small quantities of stimulants, and as high as they pulled up his spirits, even so correspondingly low did his spirits sink afterward. His agonies of remorse, following a slight excess, were morbid, fantastic, never to be taken as true to the letter. I am a poor creature, but I am leaving off gin. It was during the latter period of their residence in the Temple, and during their six years in Russell Street, that Lamb produced the greater part of the work he has left—small in sum but great in achievement.
In all matters he depended greatly upon her. All my strength is gone, and I am like a fool, bereft of her co-operation. I dare not think, lest I should think wrong, so used am I to look up to her in the least as in the biggest perplexity. He did not overrate her. She was no commonplace creature, and she impressed all who knew her well as a woman of fine judgment, of noteworthy good sense, full of womanly sympathies, sweet and serene. Hazlitt commended her as the wisest and most rational woman he had ever known.
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With strangers she was unpretentious, mild of manner, reticent rather than loquacious. In her bearing towards her brother she was gentle and gracious always, and she had a way of letting her eyes follow him everywhere about the room, in company. When looking directly at him she had often an upward, pleading, peculiar regard.
Anne Gilchrist, in her admirable monograph, has called attention to the rare tact—excellent thing in woman! Indeed, there was absolute inspiration in her way of looking at, and acting upon, these matters. It seemed to her to be a vexatious kind of tyranny, which women use towards men, just because the women have better judgment —the italics are her own! But better, far better that we should let them often do wrong, than that they should have the torment of a monitor always at their elbows. She was below the medium stature, strongly and somewhat squarely built.
To this slight sketch of her looks and bearing may be added these, not too trivial fond records, of her manner of dressing. Her gown was usually plain, of black stuff or silk; but, on festive occasions, she came out in a dove-coloured silk, with a kerchief of snow-white muslin folded across her bosom. She wore a cap of the kind in fashion in her youth, its border deeply frilled, and a bow on the top.
She came naturally to a happy command of pure limpid English, which gave to her style the charm of her own personal flavour. This flavour was made the more racy by a delicate humour, exceptional in her sex. These genuine literary qualities first had a chance to show themselves in the year , while they were living in the Temple. She begins to think Shakspeare must have wanted—imagination! Frequent editions are still in demand.
For the stories in prose, their authoress found the local scenery and colour in her memories of her youthful visits to Mackery End and to Blakesware.
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Indeed, the stories are supposed to be told to each other by the young ladies in a school at Amwell—the rural village which slopes up from the Lea and the New River, only one mile from Ware. At intervals during these years, there had been short excursions out of town, longer country trips, and journeys to visit friends far from London.
Charles had spent a fortnight at Nether Stowey with Coleridge, in the summer of , and there had made the acquaintance of William Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy. He bore the country always very bravely for the sake of the friends with whom he was staying. Neither of them had ever seen the sea, then, and had never been so long together alone and from home.
Many years after, during his holidays, they went together again to the seaside at Brighton and at Hastings. In , he was seized with a strong desire to go to remote regions, and hurried Mary off for a stay with Coleridge at the Lakes. There they passed three delightful weeks, although not in the fairy-land which their first sunset made them think they had come into.
The fatigues, the changes, and the reaction after the excitement of society, disturbed her accustomed balance, nearly always; sometimes even before they reached home.
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So surely was this foreseen that she used to pack a strait waistcoat among her effects, on starting on any journey, however short.