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Bologna (Italy) (search for this): article 9
sat, like Marius, my boy, contemplating the architectural ruin embodied in my gothic steed, Pegasus, and ever and anon whistling abstractedly to my frescoed dog, Bologna. By the gods! I really love these dumb friends of mine. The speculative eye of the world sees in poor Pegasus nothing more than an architectural dream — the church architecture of the future — and I must confess, my boy, that the gothic charger does look something like a skeleton chapel at a distance; it sees in Bologna only a mongrel cur, whose taste for the calves of human legs is an epicurean outrage on walking society. But for me, my boy, there is a human pathos in the patient fand make me turn an arrogant and contemptuous misanthrope; but there are times when the cold nose of Pegasus against my cheek, or a wag from that speaking tail of Bologna — which ever turns up behind him like a note of interrogation, to ask how his master feels — will give me such a sensation of wishing to protect and be kind to t
Samuele Smith (search for this): article 9
n-arrival of his spectacles, that he used language of an incendiary description against the beloved General of the Mackerel Brigade, thereby proving himself to be one of those crazy fanatics who are trying to ruin our distracted country. He said, my boy, that the adored General of the Mackerel Brigade was a deadbeat, and furthermore observed that he would be very sorry to take his word. Such language could not pass unnoticed, and a Court of Inquiry, composed of Captains Bob Shorty, Samuele Smith, and Colonel Robert Wobinson, was instantly called. The Court had a decanter and tumbler, only, to aid its deliberations, it being determined by the War Department that no fact which could be detected even by the aid of a glass should go uninspected. William having been summoned to the presence, Samuele declared the Court in session, and says he: "The sad duty has become ours to investigate creating charges against a brother in arms which has heretofore been the mirror of chi
Robert Wobinson (search for this): article 9
for do good ob his bressed soul." Here the attached bondman sniffied and shook his head. "Are you pious?" says Colonel Wobinson, much affected by such an example of humble devotion. "Yes, mars'r, I is dat," says the fond creature, wiping hl de more he done it. And I am run away, mars'r Colonel, to save dat ole man's bressum soul from any more dam." Colonel Wobinson took of his spectacles, in order that the steam from his tears might not dim them, and says he: "I had not looh language could not pass unnoticed, and a Court of Inquiry, composed of Captains Bob Shorty, Samuele Smith, and Colonel Robert Wobinson, was instantly called. The Court had a decanter and tumbler, only, to aid its deliberations, it being determineand says he: "The chaste remark exactly fits the Orelie of my lips." "Confine yourself to English," says Colonel Wobinson, majestically. "What did you mean by the observation?" "Why," says William, pleasantly, "I meant that before h
organ of speech, that the General of the Mackerel Brigade was a dead-beat" "Second--That aforesaid Capt. William Brown, Bekevire, did proclaim, utter, enunciate, and fulminate, that he would not take the word of the General of the Mackerel Brigade." "What has the culprit to say to these charges? Did he say that our idolized commander was a deadbeat?" William smiled calmly, and says he: "The chaste remark exactly fits the Orelie of my lips." "Confine yourself to English," says Colonel Wobinson, majestically. "What did you mean by the observation?" "Why," says William, pleasantly, "I meant that before he was beaten he must be dead. And after death, you know," says William, reaching one hand abstractedly toward the decanter, "after death, you know, we must all beaten by worms" The explanation, my boy, was satisfactory, and conveyed a grave moral lesson; but the Court felt convinced that the second charge could not be thus simply answered. Ca
Robert Robinson (search for this): article 9
ackerel Brigade will not do anything until he gets ready. It was the want of these, as I now discover, that prevented our troops seeing the Southern Confederacy when he made his late raid across Alkwyet river. Let the spectacles be at once produced, my boy, or an indignant and bleeding nation will at once demand a change in the Cabinet. Company 3, regiments, is the only company yet fitted with glasses, and was, therefore, selected to make a reconnaissance towards Parts, under Colonel Robert Robinson, on Tuesday afternoon, for the purpose of discovering whether the Confederacies there were very tired of waiting yet. Glaring through their spectacles those gallant beings advanced until they met a Parrot shell going the other way, and then returned with hasty discipline, bringing with them a captured contraband, who was so anxious to remain in their company that he actually ran very fast. Upon regaining the camp in Accomac, my boy, the Colonel had the intelligent contraband b
William Brown (search for this): article 9
ted utterances of the like, and am inclined to believe that one knews just as much about it as the other does. It pains me deeply to say, my boy, that Captain William Brown so far forgot himself on Wednesday, upon the discovery of the non-arrival of his spectacles, that he used language of an incendiary description against thevestigate creating charges against a brother in arms which has heretofore been the mirror of chivalry. It is specified against him: "First--That said Captain William Brown, Bekevire, did affirm, declare, avow, testify, and articulate with his tongue, licker, and organ of speech, that the General of the Mackerel Brigade was a dead-beat" "Second--That aforesaid Capt. William Brown, Bekevire, did proclaim, utter, enunciate, and fulminate, that he would not take the word of the General of the Mackerel Brigade." "What has the culprit to say to these charges? Did he say that our idolized commander was a deadbeat?" William smiled calmly, and
t on the topmost rail of a fence enclosing a trampled meadow. There I sat, like Marius, my boy, contemplating the architectural ruin embodied in my gothic steed, Pegasus, and ever and anon whistling abstractedly to my frescoed dog, Bologna. By the gods! I really love these dumb friends of mine. The speculative eye of the world sees in poor Pegasus nothing more than an architectural dream — the church architecture of the future — and I must confess, my boy, that the gothic charger does look something like a skeleton chapel at a distance; it sees in Bologna only a mongrel cur, whose taste for the calves of human legs is an epicurean outrage on walking h to grind everything like human tenderness out of my nature, and make me turn an arrogant and contemptuous misanthrope; but there are times when the cold nose of Pegasus against my cheek, or a wag from that speaking tail of Bologna — which ever turns up behind him like a note of interrogation, to ask how his master feels — will g
Orphans C. Kerr (search for this): article 9
Orphans C. Kerr's last.[from the N. Y. Sunday Mercury.] Editor T. T.:--Early this morning, my boy, I sauntered across the Long Bridge and took my seat on the topmost rail of a fence enclosing a trampled meadow. There I sat, like Marius, my boy, contemplating the architectural ruin embodied in my gothic steed, Pegasus, and ever and anon whistling abstractedly to my frescoed dog, Bologna. By the gods! I really love these dumb friends of mine. The speculative eye of the world sees in poor Pegasus nothing more than an architectural dream — the church architecture of the future — and I must confess, my boy, that the gothic charger does look something like a skeleton chapel at a distance; it sees in Bologna only a mongrel cur, whose taste for the calves of human legs is an epicurean outrage on walking society. But for me, my boy, there is a human pathos in the patient fidelity of these zoological curiosities which appeals to my best manhood. I have had a hard and thankless l
Orphans C. Kerr's last.[from the N. Y. Sunday Mercury.] Editor T. T.:--Early this morning, my boy, I sauntered across the Long Bridge and took my seat on the topmost rail of a fence enclosing a trampled meadow. There I sat, like Marius, my boy, contemplating the architectural ruin embodied in my gothic steed, Pegasus, and ever and anon whistling abstractedly to my frescoed dog, Bologna. By the gods! I really love these dumb friends of mine. The speculative eye of the world sees in poor Pegasus nothing more than an architectural dream — the church architecture of the future — and I must confess, my boy, that the gothic charger does look something like a skeleton chapel at a distance; it sees in Bologna only a mongrel cur, whose taste for the calves of human legs is an epicurean outrage on walking society. But for me, my boy, there is a human pathos in the patient fidelity of these zoological curiosities which appeals to my best manhood. I have had a hard and thankless li
Orphans C. Kerr's last.[from the N. Y. Sunday Mercury.] Editor T. T.:--Early this morning, my boy, I sauntered across the Long Bridge and took my seat on the topmost rail of a fence enclosing a trampled meadow. There I sat, like Marius, my boy, contemplating the architectural ruin embodied in my gothic steed, Pegasus, and ever and anon whistling abstractedly to my frescoed dog, Bologna. By the gods! I really love these dumb friends of mine. The speculative eye of the world sees in poor Pegasus nothing more than an architectural dream — the church architecture of the future — and I must confess, my boy, that the gothic charger does look something like a skeleton chapel at a distance; it sees in Bologna only a mongrel cur, whose taste for the calves of human legs is an epicurean outrage on walking society. But for me, my boy, there is a human pathos in the patient fidelity of these zoological curiosities which appeals to my best manhood. I have had a hard and thankless l
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