Barkis

“ In his younger professional days, also, I have been Barkis's friend, and have called him up, to minister to a pain I never had, at four o'clock in the morning, simply because I had reason to believe that he needed four or five dollars to carry him through the ensuing hours of the day.
Quotation books have told us that in love, as well as in war, all is fair, and if this be true Barkis's ingratitude, the narration of which cannot now give pain to any one, becomes, after all, nothing more than a venial offence. ”

“ As he repudiated this suggestion, however, with a jerk of his head, and once more confirmed his previous request by saying, with profound gravity, ‘Barkis is willin’. That’s the message,’ I readily undertook its transmission. While I was waiting for the coach in the hotel at Yarmouth that very afternoon, I procured a sheet of paper and an inkstand, and wrote a note to Peggotty, which ran thus: ‘My dear Peggotty. I have come here safe. Barkis is willing. My love to mama. ”

“ Barkis, little Em’ly and I made a cloak of an old wrapper, and sat under it for the rest of the journey. Ah, how I loved her! What happiness (I thought) if we were married, and were going away anywhere to live among the trees and in the fields, never growing older, never growing wiser, children ever, rambling hand in hand through sunshine and among flowery meadows, laying down our heads on moss at night, in a sweet sleep of purity and peace, and buried by the birds when we were dead! ”

“ It is difficult to believe that the popular writer who allowed his sentimentality—or rather the public’s sentimentality—to run away with him in such scenes as the death of Paul Dombey and Little Nell was the artist who painted the death of Sidney Carton and of Barkis, the willing. The death of Barkis, next to the passing of Colonel Newcome, is, to my thinking, one of the most perfect pieces of pathos in English literature. No very deep emotion is concerned. He is a commonplace old man, clinging foolishly to a commonplace box. ”

“ "Oh, it's not her christian name. Her christian name is Clara."
"Is it though!" said Mr. Barkis.
He seemed to find an immense fund of reflection in this circumstance, and sat pondering and inwardly whistling for some time.
"Well!" he resumed at length. "Says you, 'Peggotty! Barkis is a waitin' for a answer.' Says she, perhaps, 'Answer to what?' Says you, 'To what I told you.' 'What is that?' says she. 'Barkis is willin',' says you."
This extremely artful suggestion, Mr. Barkis accompanied with a nudge of his elbow that gave me quite a stitch in my side. ”

“ Another said: "Jack, you are perfectly right. Real estate and coal are not for you. Go in for medicine; when my leg is cut off you shall do the cutting."
To avoid details, however, some of which would make a story in themselves, Jack Barkis went through college, studied medicine, received his diploma as a full-fledged M.D., and settled down at Dumfries Corners for practice. ”

“ "When a man says he's willin'," said Mr. Barkis, turning his glance slowly on me again, "it's as much as to say, that man's a waitin' for a answer." ”

“ Baricondo, one of the leaders of the Moorish army. He was slain by the duke of Clarence.—Ariosto, Orlando Furioso (1516) .
Barker (.Mr.) , friend to Sowerberry. Mrs. Barker, his wife.—W. Brough, A Phenomenon in a Smock Frock.
Bar'kis, the carrier who courted [Clara] Peggot'ty, by telling David Copperfield when he wrote home to say to his nurse "Barkis is willin'." Clara took the hint and became Mrs. Barkis.
He dies when the tide goes out, confirming the
superstition that people can't die till the tide goes
out, or be born till it is in. ”

“ ‘Ah!’ he said, slowly turning his eyes towards me. ‘Well! If you was writin’ to her, p’raps you’d recollect to say that Barkis was willin’; would you?’
‘That Barkis is willing,’ I repeated, innocently. ‘Is that all the message?’
‘Ye-es,’ he said, considering. ‘Ye-es. Barkis is willin’.’
‘But you will be at Blunderstone again tomorrow, Mr. ”

“ The water of the Bering Sea was a deep blue-black, thought the Major, and he watched carefully the ship-made waves: black when with the sea mass, then varying shades of clear blue as they swept up into the large waves, exploding at last in sudden whiteness. When he had the time, Major Barkison appreciated beauty. ”

“ In his subconscious Wellington, for the time being, began to fade. A stage appeared in the mind of the Major, and he saw himself, the frustrated romantic, surrounded by Mandarins; dressed as General Gordon, he was receiving a large gold medal for his defeat of the [84] Wangs. Major Barkison could almost hear the offstage cheers of a crowd. He began to frame a speech of thanks in his mind. He could hear his own inner voice speaking brilliantly and at length of attrition. ”

“ Major Barkison wished he could be as absorbed in events as young Hodges. I have too much imagination, thought the Major sadly. He would have to set an example, though. His rank and training demanded it.
“What would you like us to do, Mr Evans?” he asked.
“Keep cool. That’s about all. Stay below and stay near the crew. If anything should go wrong, they’ll get you in the lifeboats. The chances of this thing getting that bad are pretty slight, but we have to be ready.”
“I see.”
“Is the Chaplain in the salon?”
“Yes. I think he’s sick. Your cook is, too.” ”

“ Willis and Ralph looked sad and dejected, but Barker: God of mercy! he resembled a skeleton more than a human. He was wasted away to a mere shadow, while long beard and hair of snowy whiteness hung down upon his breast and shoulders. His hands were like the claws of an eagle, and great, pitiful eyes stared at the robber-chief with a wild expression.
“Well, my larks, how are you getting along?” asked Dungarvon, with a demoniac leer.
“Oh, God! we are dying by inches,” returned Barker.
The robber-captain laughed mockingly, while Solomon Strange turned away with tears of pity in his eyes. ”

“ Barker never did anything quite so vulgar as exactly to walk, nor did he precisely glide, chassis or slither; he just progressed. The sound of Mr. Priestley attacking his quite admirable fire stopped him. He retrogressed.
“Permit me, sir,” said Barker, neatly twitching the poker out of Mr. Priestley’s grasp. He dropped on one knee on the hearthrug as if about to breathe a prayer up the chimney, and lightly tapped three pieces of blazing coal. The fire was as perfect as a fire in this world can be, and Barker was not going to demean himself by pretending that he thought it anything else. ”

“ I could see just where a man of Parton's temperament—which was cold and eminently judicial even when his affections were concerned—could find that in Barker at which to cavil, but, for all that, I could not sympathize with the extreme view he took of his character. I have known many a man upon whose face nature has set the stamp of the villain much more deeply than it was impressed upon Barker's countenance, who has lived a life most irreproachable, whose every act has been one of unselfishness and for the good of mankind ”

“ To be missed was to proclaim who the incendiary was when the fire was investigated.
“We may as well give it up for the present, and wait for a better time,” suggested Bark, who was as unable as his companion to solve the problem.
“No, I won’t,” replied Bill, taking a newspaper from his breast-pocket. “We may never have another chance; and I believe in striking while the iron is hot [35] .”
“Don’t get us into a scrape for nothing. We can’t do any thing now,” protested Bark.
“Now’s the day, and now’s the hour!” exclaimed Bill, scowling like the villain of a melodrama. ”

“ Swept with the stream Alan contrived to retain his hold round the waist of Rose. Barcus shot past him unseen in the darkness. It was not until Alan had contrived to stay himself and his almost witless burden beneath the mouth of the shaft that he discovered Barcus alive, if almost unrecognizable in his mask of mould and soot, battling back toward the shaft against the knee-deep tide. ”

“ You look like a stuck pig that has come back to haunt the butcher,” said Bark, trying to rally his associate. “Did you see any spirits in the hold? This is a temperance ship, and the principal don’t allow any on board.”
“You may laugh, Bark, if you like; but I believe the evil spirit is in the hold,” replied Bill impressively.
“What makes you think so, Bill?”
“The pile of rubbish is as wet as water can make it. Do you suppose there is any one in the hold?” ”

“ But Barka always cut them off sharply.
“Just you take whomever you please for a turn. I’ll keep Matýsek and I’ll not let you abuse him either. He knows how to weave an Easter whip of forty strands, he can make a broom, and a battledore for a shuttlecock as well. Everybody doesn’t have to go ramming his head into idlers for beauty or to crush rocks with their hands.” ”

“ Barkley. "Let some one see!"
"'Tis nothing but a cupboard," said Sir John Fenwick—"I examined it the other night, for fear of eavesdroppers. There is no way out."
"I shall consider your proposal, sir," said Sir George Barkley, turning to Wilton: "stay here quietly. We wish to offer no violence to any man; we are very harmless people in our way."
A grim smile hung upon his thin lip as he spoke; and looking from time to time behind him, as if he feared the use which Wilton might make of the pistol in his hand, he left the room with his companions. ”

“ The story reminded me again of the Burkes, and an impatience seized me to know who won in the battle, Doc or the seventy-five acres. For it is a hard thing to make a farm out of nothing, even in fifteen years. So I hurried on, thinking of the Burkes. They used to have a certain magnificent barbarism about them that I liked. They were never vulgar, never immoral, but rather rough and primitive, with an unconventionality that spent itself in loud guffaws, slaps on the back, and naps in the corner. I hurried by the cottage of the misborn Neill boys. ”

“ Barker noticed the heat coming from the Gulch? Or perhaps, being a rich man, he—with a dazzling smile—was above walking now. It was so kind of him to come here first and tell her father.
"I really wanted to tell only—you, Miss Carter," stammered Barker. "You see—" he hesitated. But Miss Kitty saw perfectly. He wanted to tell her, and, seeing her, he asked for her father! Not that it made the slightest difference to her, for her father would have been sure to have told her. It was also kind of her father to invite him to luncheon. Otherwise she might not have seen him before he left Boomville. ”

“ At that Nancy Davis began to laugh. She laughed and laughed, and then she began to cry. Gran slapped her face hard and drove on. “None o’ that foolishness, Nance,” she said severely. “Mind your children. ’Bijah would expect you to. Kitty and Sally Rose”—she lifted her voice—“is all well with you back there?”
“Let’s not go any farther, Gran,” pleaded Sally Rose. “There are lights at the inn we just passed by. If the folks haven’t run away, maybe they’ll have beds for us. Maybe if we hide in bed, the British will ride on and never know we’re there. I don’t want to go to Haverhill, Gran.” ”

“ Alan drowsed, soothed by the slap of waves against the side and the dull sing-song of the engine. When he roused himself, for no particular reason, it was to regard with admiration the spectacle of Barcus, tirelessly vigilant and efficient, at the wheel.
"My friend," he observed, languidly, "as our acquaintance ripens I am more and more impressed with the belief that neither of us was born to die a natural death, whether abed or at the hands of those who dislike us; but rather to be hanged as common pirates."
"You have the courage of ignorance," Barcus replied coolly. ”

“ Not a sound in the kitchen! They’d come up and do for you! cries Bark again, and waits. Not a sound in the kitchen! We are shut up, half-a-dozen of us, in Bark’s house in the innermost recesses of the worst part of London, in the dead of the night—the house is crammed with notorious robbers and ruffians—and not a man stirs. No, Bark. They know the weight of the law, and they know Inspector Field and Co. too well.
We leave bully Bark to subside at leisure out of his passion and his trousers, and, I dare say, to be inconveniently reminded of this little brush before long. ”

“ No!"
"But we're partners," gasped Barker.
"Not in this! The utmost we can do for you, opulent sir—though it ill becomes us horny-handed sons of toil to rub shoulders with Dives—is perchance to dine with you, to take a pasty and a glass of Malvoisie, at some restaurant in Sacramento—when you've got things fixed, in honor of your return to affluence. But more would ill become us!"
"But what are you going to do?" said Barker, with a half-hysteric, half-frightened smile. ”

“ A red bird was calling in the woods near by, and the soft south wind had spring in it as it blew across the veil of waters that hid the dam. John Barclay's head was full of music, and he was lounging across the bridge from the mill on his way home to try his new pipe organ. He had spent four hours the day before at his organ bench, [Pg 320] trying to teach his lame foot to keep up with his strong foot. So when General Ward overhauled him, Barclay was annoyed. He was not the man to have his purposes crossed, even when they were whims. ”

“ The lady had beaten every record. Some people laughed, others were furious, and as for the poor, they said, “Arrah! what could ye expect from Mrs. Doran? When did she give away bite or sup? She only gives trouble. Faix, the ould wan has it in for her.”
The particulars of the great scene in the study were imparted to Barky and Ulick. Barky, who was, of course, on his mother’s side, swore a terrible vengeance on Father Daly, but his brother was overwhelmed with shame. ”