ty, when most men are reaping and stacking their sins
She seemed really a soaring bird brought down by the fowler
She was thrust away because because he had offended
She stood with a dignity that the word did not express
She endured meekly, when there was no meekness
Should we leave a good deed half done
Showery, replied the admiral, as his cocked-hat was knocked off
So much for morality in those days!
So indulgent when they drop their blot on a lady's character
Steady shakes them
Strengthening the backbone for a bend of the knee in calamity
Style is the mantle of greatness
Sweetest on earth to her was to be prized by her brother
That sort of progenitor is your "permanent aristocracy"
The habit of the defensive paralyzes will
The embraced respected woman
The idol of the hour is the mob's wooden puppet
The divinely damnable naked truth won't wear ornaments
Their sneer withers
There is no driver like stomach
There's not an act of a man's life lies dead behind him
They could have pardoned her a younger lover
Those who have the careless chatter, the ready laugh
Those who know little and dread much
Thus are we stricken by the days of our youth
Tighter than ever I was tight I'll be to-night
To most men women are knaves or ninnies
Touch sin and you accommodate yourself to its vileness
Truth is, they have taken a stain from the life they lead
Very little parleying between determined men
Wakening to the claims of others--Youth's infant conscience
Warm, is hardly the word--Winter's warm on skates
We make our taskmasters of those to whom we have done a wrong
We shall go together; we shall not have to weep for one another
With one idea, we see nothing--nothing but itself
Woman finds herself on board a rudderless vessel
Women treat men as their tamed housemates
Wooing her with dog's eyes instead of words
Writer society delights in, to show what it is composed of
You played for gain, and that was a licenced thieving
You saw nothing but handkerchiefs out all over the theatre
You are to imagine that they know everything
You want me to flick your indecision

CELT AND SAXON

By George Meredith

1910.

CONTENTS

BOOK 1.
I. WHEREIN AN EXCURSION IS MADE IN A CELTIC MIND
II. MR. ADISTER