Word: armorer
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...Richmond, the painter, and others; but the most interesting letter of the series is from John Ruskin, giving his first impressions of Venice. One quotation is characteristic and not without truth: "I saw," says Mr. Ruskin, "what the world is coming to. We shall put it into a chain armor of railroad, and then everybody will go everywhere every day, until every place is like every other place; and then when they are tired of changing stations and police they will congregate in knots in great cities, which will consist of club-houses, coffee-houses and newspaper offices; the churches...
Their temperate life admirably fitted them for their mode of warfare-the hand to hand fight. Their battles were won, not by strategic movement, but by their individual efforts. Their armor was two curved pieces of bronze for the chest and back and greayes for the legs, and the chariots which they used were light and very...
...were getting ready our war paint and buckling on our armor, when we began asking each other what it was all about, and why Dr. McCosh couldn't have eaten his dinner in peace as the boys do in the old refectory - if that blessed old refectory is still in the land of the living, and then we turned one to another and said: "None of us ever heard of Edwards stamping his iron heel. In our days we could hardly hear the patter of Dr. McLean's gum shoes...
...university by a grand procession through the streets of Heidelberg. Here comes the herald, clad in velvet, and bearing aloft the yellow banner and black eagles of the Prince. Then follow four trumpeters, braying right lustily, albeit somewhat dolorously, upon their slender brass horns. Six knights in armor, with iron helmets and prodigious spears are followed by a company of foot soldiers, whose antique swords and oral shields call Walter Scott vividly to mind. A group of little children, clad in white, and with wreaths of flowers on their heads, go by singing a hymn written for the occasion...
...time and again since then. They had their day and went to rest; and their bones have long since dropped quietly to dust. Yet some weird spell has called them from the grave. Here they are once more, riding through these same streets, with the same trappings, the same armor, the same music and, in the case of historical personages, almost the same features. Professor Jacob Mycillus goes by in a great car, seated at his old oaken desk and reading his ponderous tome as quietly and attentively as he did three hundred years ago; and Melancthon, with his robes...