Dies boreales Author:John Wilson Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: Buller. How are you, Manny? North. On the stage—in the theatre of fictitious life—such a meeting as this would require explanation, but in the Drama of Real L... more »ife, on the Banks of Lochawe, it needs none. Friends of my soul! you will come to understand it all in two minutes' talk with'your progeny. Progeny, welcome for your sires' sakes, and your Lady Mothers, and your own, to Lochawe-side. I see you are two Trumps. Volusene, Woodburn, from your faces all well at home. Come, my two old Bucks, let us Three, to be out of the bustle, retire to the Inn. Did you ever see Christopher fling the Crutch ? There—I knew it would clear the Sycamore Grove. Scene IT.—Interior of the Pavilion. Time—Two p. M. North—Seward—Buller. Seward. Still at his siesta in his swing-chair. Few faces bear to be looked on asleep. Buller. Men's faces. Seward. His bears it well. Awake, it is sometimes too full of expression. And then, how it fluctuates! Perpetual play and interchange as Thought, Feeling, Fancy, Imagination— Buller. The gay, the grave, the sad, the serious, the pathetic, the humorous, the tragic, the whimsical rules the minute— " 'Tis everything by fits, and nothing long." Seward. Don't exaggerate. An inapt quotation. Buller. I was merely carrying on your eulogium of his wide-awake face. Seward. The prevalent expression is still, the Benign. Buller. A singular mixture of tenderness and truculence. Seward. Asleep, it is absolutely saint-like. Buller. It reminds me of the faces of Chantry's Sleeping Children in Litchfield Cathedral. Seward. Composure is the word. Composure is mute Harmony. Buller. It may be so—but you will not deny that his nose is just a minim too long, and his mouth, at this moment, just a minim too open, and the crow-feet Seward. Enh...« less