Cradock Nowell: A Tale of the New Forest. Vol. 2 (of 3)Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
Cradock Nowell: A Tale of the New Forest. Vol. 2 (of 3)
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
New Forest (England : Forest) -- Fiction
“Nay, then I looked at Tantalus having a rough tribulation,
Standing fast in a lake, and it came quite home to his chin–beard;
Nevertheless he stood thirsting, and had not to seize and to quaff it;
For every time when the old man would stoop in his longing to quaff it,
Then every time the water died, swallowed back, and at his ancles
Earth shone black in a moment, because a divinity parched it.
Trees as well, leafing loftily, over his head poured fruitage,
Pear–trees, and pomegranates, and apple–trees glittering–fruited,
Fig–trees of the luscious, and olive–trees of the luxuriant;
Whereat whenever the old man shot out his hands to grasp them,
Away the wind would toss them into the shadowy cloudland.”
_Od._ xi. 581.
“Now, John, you are worse than ever, I do declare you are; why, you
wonʼt even hold your neck straight. I try to make you look decent: I
try so _very hard_, John; and you havenʼt even the gratitude to keep
your chin up from the apron. You had much better go to a barber, and
get half your hair pulled out by the roots, and the other half poisoned
with a leaden comb, and then youʼll appreciate _me_, perhaps.”
“We read,” said John Rosedew, complacently gazing at his white locks as
they tumbled and took little jumps on the apron, “that when the Argives
lost Thyrea, they pledged themselves to a law and a solemn imprecation,
that none of the men should encourage his hair, and none of the ladies
wear gold.”
“And pray what gold do _I_ wear? Brother John, you are so personal; you
never can let me alone. I do believe you have never forgiven me my poor
dear grandmotherʼs ring, and watch, and Aunt Dianaʼs brooch and locket;
no, nor even my own dear motherʼs diamond ring with the sapphires round
it. And perhaps you donʼt hate even my bracelet, a mere twist of gold
with catʼs eyes! Oh, John, John, how can you be my brother, and show
such a little mind, John?”
“Whence we may infer,” continued John, quite unruffled; for he knew
that it would be worse than useless to assure Miss Doxy that he was not
even aware of the existence of the things he was impeached with; “or
at least we have some grounds for supposing that the Greeks, a very
sensitive and highly perceptive race, did not like to have their hair
cut. Compare with this another statement——”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account