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时间: 2019年12月11日 20:39

� Some may count this letter stern, viewed in the light of modern lax and easy notions. But Charlotte Tucker knew what she was about. She was living, at Batala, in the First Century of Christianity. Things would often be very differently viewed by us in England, if we could see them from the standpoint of the First instead of the Nineteenth Century. I have certainly always had also before my eyes the charms of reputation. Over and above the money view of the question, I wished from the beginning to be something more than a clerk in the Post Office. To be known as somebody 鈥?to be Anthony Trollope if it be no more 鈥?is to me much. The feeling is a very general one, and I think beneficent. It is that which has been called the 鈥渓ast infirmity of noble mind.鈥?The infirmity is so human that the man who lacks it is either above or below humanity. I own to the infirmity. But I confess that my first object in taking to literature as a profession was that which is common to the barrister when he goes to the Bar, and to the baker when he sets up his oven. I wished to make an income on which I and those belonging to me might live in comfort. 鈥楶resently the dear old Missionary, Mr. Rudolph, appeared. The 鈥減ardah鈥漑27] lady, on seeing a man, hid behind an arm-chair. But when I told her that it was 鈥淩udolph Sahib,鈥?the old lady said that he was her father, and that she would make her salaam to him. I hear that the Begum is almost a Christian, and she can read. Wrapped in her chaddah, she walked with me to church, and stayed through the service. I was close behind her. When it was over, I managed to say a little sentence to her in rather better Hindustani, 鈥淭he Lord Jesus Christ is here; He gives blessing.鈥?The Begum gave a sound of assent.鈥? People gloat over these hoary old walls as if they would like to have lived under Caligula, said the sailor, with a touch of impatience, when Father Rodwell had been expatiating upon a little bit of moulding which decorated an imperial staircase. ??????The Man who thus conceives 日本www.在线中文字幕,亚洲图片3751,啪啪视频,国产三级级在线电影 Taking it as a whole, I regard this as the best novel I have written. I was never quite satisfied with the development of the plot, which consisted in the loss of a cheque, of a charge made against a clergyman for stealing it, and of absolute uncertainty on the part of the clergyman himself as to the manner in which the cheque had found its way into his hands. I cannot quite make myself believe that even such a man as Mr. Crawley could have forgotten how he got it, nor would the generous friend who was anxious to supply his wants have supplied them by tendering the cheque of a third person. Such fault I acknowledge 鈥?acknowledging at the same time that I have never been capable of constructing with complete success the intricacies of a plot that required to be unravelled. But while confessing so much, I claim to have portrayed the mind of the unfortunate man with great accuracy and great delicacy. The pride, the humility, the manliness, the weakness, the conscientious rectitude and bitter prejudices of Mr. Crawley were, I feel, true to nature and well described. The surroundings too are good. Mrs. Proudie at the palace is a real woman; and the poor old dean dying at the deanery is also real. The archdeacon in his victory is very real. There is a true savour of English country life all through the book. It was with many misgivings that I killed my old friend Mrs. Proudie. I could not, I think, have done it, but for a resolution taken and declared under circumstances of great momentary pressure. [387] 鈥極h, I don鈥檛 think that would do at all, Mamma!鈥?she said. 鈥業t would be a very odd thing to propose.鈥? She need not leave me for ever, because she marries. She can come back to me after a long honeymoon. We can all meet in Switzerland in August鈥攊f鈥攊f I go there with Martin, as he proposes. 鈥業 have been asked to put down a few reminiscences of A. L. O. E. in her Missionary life in India. But how shall I do it? It seems like being asked to help in painting a rainbow. We can hardly compare her to anything else; so varied, so harmonious, so lovely were the rays of light which she reflected. Spirit and mind were as a clear prism, through which the light of Heaven fell, irradiating the atmosphere in which she lived, and which shone out all the more brightly when seen against the dark clouds of heathendom.