I was near Eisenach, and I wished some good fairy would put in my hand that inkpot which Luther threw at the devil.

The little room, having no table, had no inkpot, and the lawyer took from his pocket an Eagle indelible pencilthe fountain-pen of those simple days.

" "Well now, sir," says Mr. Hopkins, fetching an inkpot, a pen, and a piece of paper from his pocket.

Either he absents himself entirely from all fellowship, and lives a recluse in a garret, with carpet slippers and a leaden inkpot; or he comes among people swiftly and bitterly, in a contraction of his whole nervous system, to discharge some temper before he returns to work.

On the table were pens and inkpots and coffee cups and beer bottles and beer glasses; and about it sat certain unkempt men in resplendent but unbrushed costumes.

We marveled that the pack contained pencils, pens, inkpot, seals, officially stamped envelopes and note paper, and blank forms of various devices.

" "Inkpot!" exclaimed the Pen.

Upon a large table in the centre of the room stood two powerful reading lamps with green shades, illuminating a chaotic mass of books and pamphlets, heaped and scattered all over the table, save just on that spot between the two lamps, which accommodated Mr. Fitzpatrick's blotting pad and inkpot, a pewter inkpot which held about a pint.

Upon a large table in the centre of the room stood two powerful reading lamps with green shades, illuminating a chaotic mass of books and pamphlets, heaped and scattered all over the table, save just on that spot between the two lamps, which accommodated Mr. Fitzpatrick's blotting pad and inkpot, a pewter inkpot which held about a pint.

In this he was carefully entering yesterday's transactions with a reed pen, which he dipped frequently in a brass inkpot filled with a sponge soaked in a muddy black fluid.

While they sat talking Jadu Babu's eldest boy came to his mother, whimpering: "Chota Káká (my young uncle) has whipped me because an inkpot of his slipped from my hand, while I was playing with it, and got broken!"

But if they have promised to shoot the cross off a church spire, or empty the inkpot into somebody's beer, or bring home somebody's ears in their pocket for the pleasure of their families, I think in these cases they would feel a sort of a shadow of what civilised men feel in the fulfilment of a promise, as distinct from the making of it.

I perceive now that it is an Art of conventions remote from anything that comes out of an inkpot, and of colours hard to control.