Mr. March

“ March echoed. “Look here, Fulkerson; you may regard this as a joke, but I don't. I'm not used to being spoken to as if I were the foreman of a shop, and told to discharge a sensitive and cultivated man like Lindau, as if he were a drunken mechanic; and if that's your idea of me—”
“Oh, hello, now, March! You mustn't mind the old man's way. He don't mean anything by it—he don't know any better, if you come to that.”
“Then I know better,” said March. “I refused to receive any instructions from Mr. Dryfoos, whom I don't know in my relations with 'Every Other Week,' and I referred him to you.” ”

“ They were a man and a maid, and the maid was Barbara Garnet. She was speaking.
"We can't get so far out of the way if we can keep this"—she saw John March rise into his saddle, caught a breath, and then cried:
"Why, it's Mr. March. Mr. March, we've missed our road!" Her laugh was anxious. "In fact, we're lost. Oh! Mr. March, Mr. Fair." The young men shook hands. Fair noted a light rifle and a bunch of squirrels at March's saddle-bow.
"You've been busier than we."
"Mighty poor sign of industry. I didn't come out for game, but a man's sure to be sorry if he goes into the woods without a gun. ”

“ After she had put away several barrels of gimcracks, and folded up screens and rugs and skins, and carried them all off to the little dark store-room which the flat developed, she perceived at once a roominess and coziness in it unsuspected before. Then, when people began to call, she had a pleasure, a superiority, in saying that it was a furnished apartment, and in disclaiming all responsibility for the upholstery and decoration. If March was by, she always explained that it was Mr. March's fancy, and amiably laughed it off with her callers as a mannish eccentricity. ”

“ They sang hymns at the piano, selecting oftenest those which made best display of Miss Garnet's and Mr. March's voices. Hers was only mezzo-soprano and not brilliant, but Mr. March and a very short college girl, conversing for a moment aside, agreed that it was "singularly winsome." Another college girl, very tall, whispered to Barbara that his was a "superb barrytone!" The young man entered deeper and deeper every moment into the esteem of the household, and they into his. ”

“ Hubbell to some piece of March's which had happened to meet his eye, no one in the management ever gave a sign of consciousness that their service was adorned by an obscure literary man; and Mr. Hubbell himself had the effect of regarding the excursions of March's pen as a sort of joke, and of winking at them; as he might have winked if once in a way he had found him a little the gayer for dining.
March wore through the day gloomily, but he had it on his conscience not to show any resentment toward Watkins, whom he suspected of wishing to supplant him, and even of working to do so. ”

“ Rejoice, oh, young man, in your project, but know that old men, without projects, hearing will not hear—until they have seen their mail and their cashier; the early worm rarely catches the bird. John had just learned this in Pulaski City.
At breakfast he was again startled by a low voice very close to him. It was Mr. Fair.
"Mr. March, why not come over and sit with us?"
The ladies bowed from a table on the far side of the room. Mrs. Fair seemed as handsome as ever; while Miss Garnet!—well! ”

“ Fulkerson went out again, and this time March was finally left with Mr. Dryfoos.
“Mrs. March was very sorry not to be at home when your sisters called the other day. She wished me to ask if they had any afternoon in particular. There was none on your mother's card.”
“No, sir,” said the young man, with a flush of embarrassment that seemed habitual with him. “She has no day. She's at home almost every day. She hardly ever goes out.”
“Might we come some evening?” March asked. “We should be very glad to do that, if she would excuse the informality. Then I could come with Mrs. March.” ”

“ March. Do I? why didn’t you say that before: I’m done. But, Mother Gale, what do you suppose sent these rich people to this desolate spot?
Mrs. G. It’s their whims, I s’pose: rich people are terrible whimsical. Mr. Raymond told your father he wanted a quiet place down by the sea.
March. Blest if he hasn’t got it! It’s almost as desolate here as poor old Robinson Crusoe’s Island. ”

“ March was going to attack this ideal, but he reflected in time that Mr. Leffers had really stated his own motive in reading. He compromised. “Well, I like the author to do my thinking for me.”
“Yes,” said the other, “that is what I mean.”
“The question is whether 'The Maiden Knight' fellow does it,” said Kenby, taking duck and pease from the steward at his shoulder.
“What my wife likes in it is to see what one woman can do and be single-handed,” said March.
“No,” his wife corrected him, “what a man thinks she can.” ”

“ It's cowardly; le's go down an' face the thing like men! I'm goin' to crawl down back 'ards; thass the skilfullest way."
"Halt!" growled John, and something else added "tick-tick."
"Oh! Mr. March, faw God's sake! Ef you mus' shoot me, shoot me whah I won't fall so fuh! Why, I was a-jokin'! I wa'n't a-dreamin' o' goin' back! Heah I come, seh, look out! Oh, please put up that-ah naysty-lookin' thing!—Thank you, seh!—Mr. March, escuse me jiss a minute whilse I epitomize my breath a little, seh, I jess want to recover my dizziness—This is fine, ain't it? Oh, Lawd! Mr. ”

“ I tell you they ain't the orderin' round kind; they're the reel genuwine fust-class folks; an' genuwine fust-class folks don't never order nobody to do nothing: I tell you I shouldn't stand no orderin' any more'n you would. Mr. March he always sez to me, 'We'd better do so and so,' if there's anything he wants done; 'n' he works 's hard as I do, any day, 'n' Miss March she's jest like him. ”

“ March to listen to Mrs. Leffers, who did not let them go without making her husband promise to wrap up well, and not get his feet wet. She made March promise not to take him far, and to bring him back early, which he found himself very willing to do, after an exchange of ideas with Mr. Leffers. The young man began to talk about his wife, in her providential, her almost miraculous adaptation to the sort of man he was, and when he had once begun to explain what sort of man he was, there was no end to it, till they rejoined the ladies in the reading-room. ”

“ Pettigrew, thass the premonition I espec' to espress to my frien' Mr. March, lessn you tell me now, an' tell me true, who you ah.
"Yass, seh, I thought so. Yass, seh. No, seh, I know they ain't a minute to lose, but still I think the time ain't quite so pow'ful pressin' to me like what it is to you; I thought jess now I hyeard buggy-wheels, but mebbe I didn't. ”

“ Fair, senior, was in, but that Mr. Henry had gone to spend Sunday at some Connecticut River town, he was not sure which, but—near Springfield.
LXX. ACROSS THE MEADOWS
Next morning, John March, for the first time in his life, saw and heard the bobolink.
"Ah! you turncoat scoundrel!" he laughed in a sort of fond dejection, "you've come North to be a lover too, have you? You were songless enough down South!" ”

“ H. Martineau’s Biographical Sketches 4 ed. (1876) 368–92; S. J. Hale’s Women’s Record 2 ed. (1855) 732.
MARCH, Charles (son of Richard March, weaver of woollen yarn) . b. Boutport st. Barnstaple 15 Dec. 1793; entered R.N. Dec. 1807, present at bombardment of Algiers; in the merchant service 1824–32; an agent of the Bible soc.; a shipping agent with Mr. Bird at Gloucester 1835; commander R.N. July 1864. d. Gloucester 17 March 1865. Memorials of Charles March by his nephew Septimus March (1867) , portrait. ”

“ Wheat harvest 1917-18 was 200,217,333 bushels below the average of the three previous years.
Upon the same subject Mr. Hoover himself after the harvest of 1918 said:
It is now possible to summarize the shipments of foodstuffs from the United States to the allied countries during the fiscal year just closed—practically the last harvest year. These amounts include all shipments to allied countries for their and our armies, the civilian population, the Belgian relief, and the Red Cross. The figures indicate the measure of effort of the American people in support of allied food supplies. ”

“ It is difficult to distinguish between various sections of our people—the homes, public eating places, food trades, urban or agricultural populations—in assessing credit for these results, but no one will deny the dominant part of the American woman.
But the work of the Food Administration did not come to an end with the close of the war. Insistent cries for food came from the members of the defeated Teutonic alliance, as well as from the suffering Allied and neutral nations. To meet those demands, Mr. Hoover sailed for Europe to organize the food relief of the needy nations. ”

“ March could not be so enthusiastic about her as March was, but as they walked home together they talked the girl over, and agreed about her beauty and her amiability. Mrs. March said she seemed very unspoiled for a person who must have been so much spoiled. They tried to analyze her charm, and they succeeded in formulating it as a combination of intellectual fashionableness and worldly innocence. “I think,” said Mrs. March, “that city girls, brought up as she must have been, are often the most innocent of all. ”

“ March, there ain't anything like a home, is there? Dear little cot of your own, heigh? I tell you, March, when I get to pushing that mower round, and the colonel is smoking his cigar in the gallery, and those girls are pottering over the flowers, one of these soft evenings after dinner, I feel like a human being. Yes, I do. I struck it rich when I concluded to take my meals at the widow's. For eight dollars a week I get good board, refined society, and all the advantages of a Christian home. By-the-way, you've never had much talk with Miss Woodburn, have you, March? ”

“ Come now, like Pan's old crew we'll dance and sing, Or Oberon's, for hill and valley ring To March's bugle horn—earth's blood is stirred."
March has indeed come; boisterous, wild, terrible, in many ways, but lovely in others. There is a freshness in the air that rouses glad thoughts within the breast, vague thoughts, sweet, as undefinable, and that yet mean life. The whole land seems to have sprung up from a long slumber, and to be looking with wide happy eyes upon the fresh marvels Nature is preparing for it. ”

“ She fills the fields with strength and passion—makes A fire of lustre on the lawn-ringed lakes; Her beauty awes the great wild sea; the height Of grey magnificence takes strange delight And softens at her presence, at the dear Sweet face whose memory beams through all the year. March Clear upland voices, full of wind and stream, Greet March, the sister of the flying beam And speedy shadow. She, with rainbow crowned, Lives in a sphere of songs of mazy sound. The hymn of waters and the gale's high tone, With anthems from the thunder's mountain throne, Are with her ever. ”

“ March in Marbridge used to mean violets and daffodils, tender green shoots and balmy middays. March here means days of pale clean light and great sweeping wind which chased grey clouds across a steely sky, and stirred the lust for fight and freedom in men's minds and set them longing to be up and away and at battle with the world or the elements. ”

“ It is March in England, bleak March, and I lie here with the great sliding doors wide open in an undershirt and p'jama trousers, and melt in the closure of mosquito bars, and burn to be out in the breeze. A few torn clouds - not white, the sun has tinged them a warm pink - swim in heaven. In which blessed and fair day, I have to make faces and speak bitter words to a man - who has deceived me, it is true - but who is poor, and older than I, and a kind of a gentleman too. ”

“ March was not eager to pursue the hospitalities which she had at first imagined essential to the literary prosperity of 'Every Other Week'; her family sufficed her; she would willingly have seen no one out of it but the strangers at the weekly table-d'hote dinner, or the audiences at the theatres. March's devotion to his work made him reluctant to delegate it to any one; and as the summer advanced, and the question of where to go grew more vexed, he showed a man's base willingness to shirk it for himself by not going anywhere. ”

“ The sun crosses the line; the days grow a minute longer: spring will come by and by. But by what cruel irony was the month of March ever called spring?—March, which piles snow-storms and wind-storms on backs almost broken by endurance. The long agony of March and April is the breaking-point with many a delicate person who has borne pretty well the regular winter. ”

“ It was a day late on in March—one of those days not unfrequent at that season, especially in the south and west—a day that seems filled with a promise of coming summer—a day in which all nature rejoices, which stirs the pulses and sets the blood coursing joyously, and fills the air with subtle promises of life and hope. ”

“ It was a bright and beautiful morning in March, when Clara, after taking an affectionate leave of her cousin, whom, despite her little foibles, she tenderly loved, was seated by her old friend and commenced her homeward journey.
March, in our southern clime, is not always rude and boisterous, but has many a gentle day, when Nature is dressed in as lovely a garb as she wears at any season of the year, and such a day was the one of which we speak ”