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The Mistletoe Bough
The Mistletoe Bough
The Mistletoe Bough
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The Mistletoe Bough

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Anthony Trollope (1815-1882) was one of the most successful, prolific and respected English novelists of the Victorian era. He wrote penetrating novels on political, social, and gender issues and conflicts of his day. In 1867 Trollope left his position in the British Post Office to run for Parliament as a Liberal candidate in 1868. After he lost, he concentrated entirely on his literary career. While continuing to produce novels rapidly, he also edited the St Paul's Magazine, which published several of his novels in serial form. His first major success came with The Warden (1855) - the first of six novels set in the fictional county of Barsetshire. The comic masterpiece Barchester Towers (1857) has probably become the best-known of these. Trollope's popularity and critical success diminished in his later years, but he continued to write prolifically, and some of his later novels have acquired a good reputation. In particular, critics generally acknowledge the sweeping satire The Way We Live Now (1875) as his masterpiece. In all, Trollope wrote forty-seven novels, as well as dozens of short stories and a few books on travel.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateMay 1, 2014
ISBN9781609779788
The Mistletoe Bough
Author

Anthony Trollope

Anthony Trollope was a Victorian-era English author best known for his satirical novel The Way We Live Now, a criticism of the greed and immorality he witnessed living in London. Trollope was employed as a postal surveyor in Ireland when he began to take up writing as a serious pursuit, publishing four novels on Irish subjects during his years there. In 1851 Trollope was travelling the English countryside for work when was inspired with the plot for The Warden, the first of six novels in what would become his famous The Chronicles of Barsetshire series. Trollope eventually settled in London and over the next thirty years published a prodigious body of work, including Barsetshire novels such as Barchester Towers and Doctor Thorne, as well as numerous other novels and short stories. Trollope died in London 1882 at the age of 67.

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    The Mistletoe Bough - Anthony Trollope

    The Mistletoe Bough

    By Anthony Trollope

    Start Publishing LLC

    Copyright © 2012 by Start Publishing LLC

    All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

    First Start Publishing eBook edition October 2012

    Start Publishing is a registered trademark of Start Publishing LLC

    Manufactured in the United States of America

    10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

    ISBN 978-1-60977-978-8

    Let the boys have it if they like it, said Mrs. Garrow, pleading to her only daughter on behalf of her two sons.

    Pray don't, mamma, said Elizabeth Garrow. It only means romping. To me all that is detestable, and I am sure it is not the sort of thing that Miss Holmes would like.

    We always had it at Christmas when we were young.

    But, mamma, the world is so changed.

    The point in dispute was one very delicate in its nature, hardly to be discussed in all its bearings, even in fiction, and the very mention of which between mother and daughter showed a great amount of close confidence between them. It was no less than this. Should that branch of mistletoe which Frank Garrow had brought home with him out of the Lowther woods be hung up on Christmas Eve in the dining-room at Thwaite Hall, according to his wishes; or should permission for such hanging be positively refused? It was clearly a thing not to be done after such a discussion, and therefore the decision given by Mrs. Garrow was against it.

    I am inclined to think that Miss Garrow was right in saying that the world is changed as touching mistletoe boughs. Kissing, I fear, is less innocent now than it used to be when our grand-mothers were alive, and we have become more fastidious in our amusements. Nevertheless, I think that she made herself fairly open to the raillery with which her brothers attacked her.

    Honi soit qui mal y pense, said Frank, who was eighteen.

    Nobody will want to kiss you, my lady Fineairs, said Harry, who was just a year younger.

    Because you choose to be a Puritan, there are to be no more cakes and ale in the house, said Frank.

    Still waters run deep; we all know that, said Harry.

    The boys had not been present when the matter was decided between Mrs. Garrow and her daughter, nor had the mother been present when these little amenities had passed between the brothers and sister.

    Only that mamma has said it, and I wouldn't seem to go against her, said Frank, I'd ask my father. He wouldn't give way to such nonsense, I know.

    Elizabeth turned away without answering, and left the room.

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