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97影院 97极品影院 97影院在线观看

时间: 2019年12月07日 12:04

C. M. Tucker.鈥? Mrs Goodford being helped first, poured the greater part of the cream over her tart, and began on Hugh. Hugh would have been judged by a sentimental school-girl to be much the best looking of all the Keelings, for the resemblance between him and the wax types of manly beauty which used to appear in the windows of hairdressers{24}鈥?establishments was so striking as to be almost uncanny. You wondered if there was a strain of hairdresser blood in his ancestors. He had worked himself up from the lowest offices in his father鈥檚 stores; he had been boy-messenger for the delivery of parcels, he had sold behind the counters, he had been through the accountant鈥檚 office, he had travelled on behalf of the business, and knew the working of it all from A to Z. In course of time he would become General Manager, and his father felt that in his capable hands it was not likely that the business would deteriorate. He spoke little, and usually paused before he spoke, and when he spoke he seldom made a mistake. The brilliance of his appearance was backed by a solid and sensible mind. 鈥業 am thankful to be near her, to minister to her,鈥攂ut wish I were a better comforter, such as you would have been, dear. 鈥榃ant to enlist, do you? Hey, what, what, what? Where do you come from? Won鈥檛 say, I suppose? Where do you belong to? Don鈥檛 know, of course. What鈥檚 your age? You won鈥檛 tell the truth. Height? we can see to that. Health? are you sound in wind and limb? hey, what, what, what?鈥? One-half of the life of Charlotte Tucker was now over; a quiet and uneventful life thus far. If we like, we may mentally divide her story into four quarters, each about eighteen years in length, corresponding to Early Morning, Noontide, Afternoon, and Evening. The first eighteen years of her Early Morning had been, perhaps, as bright and cloudless as the existence of any girl could well be. In the succeeding Noontide hours she had known still much of brightness, though they included her first great sorrow, and ended with her second. Also, in the course of that Noontide she had entered upon her career of authorship, with all its hopes and aims, its hard work and its delights. Probably none who have not experienced it for themselves can quite understand the fascinations of authorship. [105] 97影院 97极品影院 97影院在线观看 Let me go with you, and I may be able to distract his attention鈥攊f you don't want him to see that you have been crying.""" � Sophia. I thought it my duty, dearest. � The critics will again say that all this may be very well as to the rough work of the author鈥檚 own brain, but it will be very far from well in reference to the style in which that work has been given to the public. After all, the vehicle which a writer uses for conveying his thoughts to the public should not be less important to him than the thoughts themselves. An author can hardly hope to be popular unless he can use popular language. That is quite true; but then comes the question of achieving a popular 鈥?in other words, I may say, a good and lucid style. How may an author best acquire a mode of writing which shall be agreeable and easily intelligible to the reader? He must be correct, because without correctness he can be neither agreeable nor intelligible. Readers will expect him to obey those rules which they, consciously or unconsciously, have been taught to regard as binding on language; and unless he does obey them, he will disgust. Without much labour, no writer will achieve such a style. He has very much to learn; and, when he has learned that much, he has to acquire the habit of using what he has learned with ease. But all this must be learned and acquired 鈥?not while he is writing that which shall please, but long before. His language must come from him as music comes from the rapid touch of the great performer鈥檚 fingers; as words come from the mouth of the indignant orator; as letters fly from the fingers of the trained compositor; as the syllables tinkled out by little bells form themselves to the ear of the telegraphist. A man who thinks much of his words as he writes them will generally leave behind him work that smells of oil. I speak here, of course, of prose; for in poetry we know what care is necessary, and we form our taste accordingly.