Old lamps for new

The cabman drew up at a gate in an old wall, about a mile out of the town. I noticed as I was waiting for him to give me change that the Cathedral spire was visible down the roa...

The beautiful blue Danube had so little water in it just then that the voyage to Budapest would have taken almost twice as long as it should, and there was not time. To make the...

The Vermeer belonging to the King hangs in the private apartments at Windsor, but when I saw it, it was, by the courtesy of His Majesty’s Surveyor of Works of Art, carried into...

Pomero, I should say, was a Pomeranian; but let me quote Sir Sidney Colvin’s charming sentences upon both man and dog. “With ‘Pomero’ Landor would prattle in English and Italian...

“On one side of this end of the room was the door of a closet wherein stood the strong beer and the wine, which never came thence but in single glasses, that being the rule of t...

Dipping the other day in that most agreeable of recent autobiographies, _The Reminiscences of Albert Pell_, I opened once again at his story of Sir John Lawes’ otters, and, re-r...

“Who is going to turn his back for ever on that passage? No,” K. went on, “it won’t do. It is not possible to name one essay and one only. But I have an amendment to propose. In...

The old age of artists was a theme on which Hazlitt wrote one of his best essays, and just now, were he to be still among us, he would find new subjects for study--for not only...

The older I grow the more respect I have for the wise people who cannot read or write. The shepherd cannot read or write, yet conversation with him is as natural as if he knew a...

“In the boxes, quite in a corner, sat several servants, who were said to be placed there to keep the seats for the families they served, till they should arrive; they seemed to...

In his youth, before his Army period, he had been a valet in London, in Half-Moon Street, and though it was only for a few weeks and he speaks no English, it brings him into tou...

_Mr. Jupp._ I’ll let you know, mum. I’ll think about it and let you know. There’s so many after me I have to be careful, mum. But I’ll let you know.

“My work,” he said. “It does not begin again with any seriousness till next February; but it goes on then till April with terrific vigour.” He pressed his hand to his brow.

The mast laughed till he shook. “Well, I like that,” he said. “Why, a newspaper--a newspaper only lasts a day, and everything in it is contradicted and corrected the day after!...