The Son of Man goes forth to war, A golden crown to gain; His blood-red banner streams afar – Who follows in his train?” I.
Chuchundra is a broken-hearted little beast. He whimpers and cheeps all the night, trying to make up his mind to run into the middle of the room. But he never gets there.
They gave him a little piece of raw meat. Rikki-tikki liked it immensely, and when it was finished he went out into the veranda and sat in the sunshine and fluffed up his fur to make it dry to the roots. Then he felt better.
So Mowgli sat and cried as though his heart would break; and he had never cried in all his life before.
Here I am,” yapped Vixen, “under the gun-tail with my man. You big, blundering beast of a camel you, you upset our tent. My man’s very angry.” “Phew!” said the bullocks. “He must be white?
What is has been. What will be is no more than a forgotten year striking backward.
Men had been puffed up with pride by notions not a tithe as excellent and practicable.
Mowgli will drive Mowgli. Go back to thy people. Go to man. -Akela.
They have no remembrance. They boast and chatter and pretend that they are a great people about to do great affairs in the jungle, but the falling of a nut turns their minds to laughter, and all is forgotten.
They are very many, evil, dirty, shameless, and they desire, if they have any fixed desire, to be noticed by the Jungle People.
He is a man – a man – a man!” snarled the Pack; and most of the wolves began to gather round Shere Khan, whose tail was beginning to switch.
Mowgli stood upright – the fire-pot in his hands. Then he stretched out his arms, and yawned in the face of the Council; but he was furious with rage and sorrow, for, wolf-like, the wolves had never told him how they hated him.
The Sahibs have not all this world’s wisdom.
Then says Mrs. Hauksbee to me – she looked a trifle faded and jaded in the lamplight: “Take my word for it, the silliest woman can manage a clever man; but it needs a very clever woman to manage a fool.
One of these days, Strickland is going to write a little book on his experiences. That book will be worth buying; and even more, worth suppressing.
But say, India’s half the size of the United States. Which State are you going to?
The Viceroy possessed no name – nothing but a string of counties and two-thirds of the alphabet after them.
Very foolish it is to use the wrong word to a stranger; for though the heart may be clean of offence, how is the stranger to know that? He is more like to search truth with a dagger.
Which homily brings me directly to a brace of the most finished little fiends that ever banged drum or tootled fife in the Band of a British Regiment. They ended their sinful career by open and flagrant mutiny and were shot for it. Their names were Jakin and Lew – Piggy Lew and they were bold, bad drummer-boys, both of them frequently birched by the Drum-Major of the Fore and Aft.
I explained as much as I knew of the seal-cutter’s way of jadoo; but her argument was much more simple: “The magic that is always demanding gifts is no true magic,” said she.