Persuasion
Persuasion by Jane Austen (1818) Chapter 1 Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one; there his faculties were roused into admiration and respect, by contemplating the limited remnant of the earliest patents; there any unwelcome sensations, arising from domestic affairs changed naturally into pity and contempt as he turned over the almost endless creations of the last century; and there, if every other leaf were powerless, he could read his own history with an interest which never failed. This was the page at which the favourite volume always opened:
The mention of the boy recalled him to their minds, and looking
round they found him peacefully absorbed in polishing up the floor
with Molly's pocket-handkerchief and oil from the little
machine-can. Being torn from this congenial labor, he was carried
off shining with grease and roaring lustily.
But Jill did not mind her loneliness now, and sang like a happy
canary while she threaded her sparkling beads, or hung the gay
horns to dry, ready for their cargoes of sweets. So Mrs. Minot's
recipe for sunshine proved successful, and mother-wit made the
wintry day a bright and happy one for both the little prisoners.
Chapter V
Secrets
There were a great many clubs in Harmony Village, but as we
intend to interest ourselves with the affairs of the young folks only,
we need not dwell upon the intellectual amusements of the elders.
In summer, the boys devoted themselves to baseball, the girls to
boating, and all got rosy, stout, and strong, in these healthful
Persuasion by Jane Austen (1818) Chapter 1 Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one; there his faculties were roused into admiration and respect, by contemplating the limited remnant of the earliest patents; there any unwelcome sensations, arising from domestic affairs changed naturally into pity and contempt as he turned over the almost endless creations of the last century; and there, if every other leaf were powerless, he could read his own history with an interest which never failed. This was the page at which the favourite volume always opened: