Skip to content

- George Herbert

The harbingers are come. See, see their mark;

White is their colour, and behold my head.

But must they have my brain? must they dispark

Those sparkling notions, which therein were bred?

...

Read full poem

noun

A fight involving three or more individuals, teams, or factions; fought until one person, team, or faction is left standing.

Know more

Chapter 13 of 61

13 min read

It was a trial to my feelings, on the next day but one, to see Joe arraying himself in his Sunday clothes to accompany me to Miss Havisham’s. However, as he thought his court-suit necessary to the occasion, it was not for me to tell him that he looked far better in his working-dress; the rather, because I knew he made himself so dreadfully uncomfortable, entirely on my account, and that it was for me he pulled up his shirt-collar so very high behind, that it made the hair on the crown of his head stand up like a tuft of feathers.

Chapter 13

1 / 20

1 of 20

← → keys or swipe to turn pages