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Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch
Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch (1863-1944) was a renowned British writer and literary critic, best known for his influential work on English literature. He authored the classic "The Oxford Book of English Verse" and significantly contributed to the field of literary studies through his lectures at the University of Cambridge, where he held the position of King Edward VII Professor of English Literature. Quiller-Couch, often writing under the pen name "Q," was also a prolific novelist and short story writer, celebrated for his skillful storytelling and keen insight into human nature.
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Chapter I. THE BEACH. A coach-and-six, as a rule, may be called an impressive Object.But something depends on where you see it. Viewed from the tall cliffs—along the base of which, on a strip of beach two hundred feet below, it crawled between the American continent and the Atlantic Ocean—Captain Oliver Vyell's coach-and-six resembled nothing so nearly as a black-beetle. For that matter the...
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CHAPTER I. ROSEWARNE OF HALL. John Rosewarne sat in his counting-house at Hall, dictating a letter to his confidential clerk. The letter ran— "Dear Sir,—In answer to yours of the 6th inst., I beg to inform you that in consequence of an arrangement with the Swedish firms, by which barrel-staves will be trimmed and finished to three standard lengths before shipment, we are enabled to offer an...
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AUDIENCE AND INTERLOCUTORS. Lieut. John Polkinghorne. R.F.A., of the Battery.Sec. Lieut. Samuel Barham, M.C. R.F.A., of the Battery.Sec. Lieut. Percy Yarrell-Smith. R.F.A., of the BatterySec Lieut. Noel Williams, R.F.A., attached for instruction. But military duties usually restricted the audience to two at a time, though there were three on the night when Barham (Sammy) set his C.O. going with a...
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POETRY By Arthur Quiller-Couch "Trust in good verses then: They only shall aspire, When pyramids, as men Are lost i'the funeral fire." As the tale is told by Plato, in the tenth book of his Republic, one Er the son of Arminius, a Pamphylian, was slain in battle; and ten days afterwards, when they collected the bodies for burial, his body alone showed no taint of corruption. His relatives,...
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A Tale of Wild Justice. I. Beside a high-road in the extreme West of England stands a house which you might pass many times without suspecting it of a dark history or, indeed, any history worth mention. The country itself, which here slopes westward from the Mining District to Mount's Bay, has little beauty and—unless you happen to have studied it—little interest. It is bare, and it comes near...
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IN A COLLEGE GARDEN. Senex. Saye, cushat, callynge from the brake, What ayles thee soe to pyne? Thy carefulle heart shall cease to ake When dayes be fyne And greene thynges twyne: Saye, cushat, what thy griefe to myne? Turtur. Naye,...
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PROLOGUE. Beside a winding creek of the Lynher River, and not far from the Cornish borough of Saltash, you may find a roofless building so closely backed with cherry-orchards that the trees seem by their slow pressure to be thrusting the mud-walls down to the river's brink, there to topple and fall into the tide. The old trees, though sheeted with white blossom in the spring, bear little fruit,...
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PROLOGUE. "For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" At Surat, by a window of his private office in the East India Company's factory, a middle-aged man stared out upon the broad river and the wharves below. Business in the factory had ceased for the day: clerks and porters had gone about their own...
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CHAUCER March 17, 1894. Professor Skeat's Chaucer. After twenty-five years of close toil, Professor Skeat has completed his great edition of Chaucer. It is obviously easier to be dithyrambic than critical in chronicling this event; to which indeed dithyrambs are more appropriate than criticism. For when a man writes Opus vitæ meæ at the conclusion of such a task as this, and so lays down his...
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PIPES IN ARCADY. I hardly can bring myself to part with this story, it has been such a private joy to me. Moreover, that I have lain awake in the night to laugh over it is no guarantee of your being passably amused. Yourselves, I dare say, have known what it is to awake in irrepressible mirth from a dream which next morning proved to be flat and unconvincing. Well, this my pet story has some of the...
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