Capitola's Mother

A woman like a dew-drop she was purer than the purest, 
And her noble heart the noblest, yes, and her sure faith the surest; 
And her eyes were dark and humid like the depth in depth of lustre 
Hid i' the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier than the wild grape's cluster, 
Gushed in raven-tinted plenty down her cheeks' rose-tinted marble; 
Then her voice's music--call it the well's bubbling, the bird's warble.
--Browning.

"Cap?"

"Sir!"

"What the blazes is the matter with you?"

"What the blazes! You better say what the dust and ashes! I'm bored to death! I'm blue as indigo! There never was such a rum old place as this or such a rum old uncle as you!"

"Cap, how often have I told you to leave off this Bowery boy talk? Rum! pah!" said Old Hurricane.

"Well, it is rum, then! Nothing ever happens here! The silence deafens me! the plenty takes away my appetite! the safety makes me low!"

"Hum! you are like the Bowery boys in times of peace, 'spoiling for a fight.'"

"Yes. I am! just decomposing above ground for want of having my blood stirred, and I wish I was back in the Bowery! Something was always happening there! One day a fire, next day a fight, another day a fire and a fight together."