Summary

Various The Strand Magazine, Vol. 27, January 1904…

Nevertheless, I do not believe any sculptor should slavishly adhere to the canons of form laid down by the tailor. The tailor is, of course, merely carrying out the whims of his fashionable patron, who is not always the most intellectual being extant. Although I am told that some statesmen like Mr. Chamberlain are scrupulous as to the perfect fit of their trousers, yet I should no more dream, if called upon to-morrow to make a statue of one of these eminent gentlemen, of modelling an upright pair of creaseless cylinders than I should paint in the shade of the cloth.
Source: Gutenberg

Various The Strand Magazine, Vol. 27, January 1904…

I knew we ought to have gone to Aunt Emma at Croydon. Oh, Squirrel, I wish we had. Let's go now."
"Shut up," said her brother, briefly. "There's someone rattling the latch inside."
Everyone listened with all its ears, and everyone stood back as far from the door as the steps would allow.
The latch rattled and clicked. Then the flap of the letter-box lifted itself—everyone saw it by the flickering light of the gas-lamp that shone through the leafless lime tree by the gate—a golden eye seemed to wink at them through the letter-box, and a cautious beak whispered:
"Are you alone?"
Source: Gutenberg

Various The Strand Magazine, Vol. 27, January 1904…

Why should some eat when others were starving? And the Prussians killed all indiscriminately, he said, rich or poor, old and young, mothers and children. What folly resisted the right of Bismarck and the Red Prince? Sadi prayed that the city might fall and bread be given to him; but with the next breath he was cursing the blue-coats and hoping in his heart that Strasburg might never surrender. For he was a patriot in spite of his poverty.
It was a warm night of September, with a starry sky to be seen here and there between the clouds of sulphurous smoke which floated above the ramparts.
Source: Gutenberg

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