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Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge), 1825-1900

"Springhaven : a Tale of the Great War"


When all had done well, except the two aforesaid, and good-will born of
good deeds was crowning comfort with jocund pleasure, and the long oak
table, rich of grain and dark with the friction of a hundred years,
shone in the wavering flow of dusk with the gleam of purple and golden
fruit, the glance of brilliant glass that puzzles the light with its
claim to shadow, and the glow of amber and amethyst wine decanted to
settle that question--then the bold Admiral, standing up, said, "Bring
in the lights, that we may see his lordship."
"I like to speak to some intelligence," said the guest, who was shrewd
at an answer. And Dolly, being quick at occasion, seized it, and in the
shifting of chairs left her own for some one else.
The curtains were drawn across the western window, to close the conflict
between God's light and man's, and then this well-known gentleman,
having placed his bottle handily--for he never "put wine into two
whites," to use his own expression--arose with his solid frame as
tranquil as a rock, and his full-fronted head like a piece of it. Every
gentleman bowed to his bow, and waited with silent respect for his
words, because they would be true and simple.
"My friends, I will take it for granted that we all love our country,
and hate its enemies. We may like and respect them personally, for they
are as good as we are; but we are bound to hate them collectively,
as men who would ruin all we love.


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