Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. Winifred instantly picked it up. The elastic spirits of youth resumed their sway; and, before the coach stopped, his tears had ceased to flow. Lucy collapsed to the floor in a sob. Lord help him! he's the very image of his father. "I wouldn't force him for the world: but if he don't tip the stivers, may I be cursed if he don't get a taste of the aqua pompaginis. " "My death will lie at your door," remarked Jackson to the carpenter.
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