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<p>jordan shoes for sale</p><p></p> movement, they nevertheless refused to become heated, and retained a spirit of humour. Sherwood was not a member of the Committee of Vigilance, but he had subscribed heavily--and openly--to its funds; he had assisted it with his counsels; and it was hinted that, sub-rosa, he had taken part in some of the more obscure but dangerous operations.<br>"I am an elderly, peace-loving, respectable citizen," he told Nan, "and I stand unequivocably for law and order and for justice, for the orderly doing of things; and against violence, mob spirit, and high-handedness."<br>"Why, John Sherwood!" cried Nan, up in arms at once. "I'd never have believed you could be on the side of Judge Terry and that stripe."<br>"Oho!" cried Sherwood, delighted to have drawn her. "Now we have it! But what made you think I was on that side?"<br>"Why--didn't you just say--"<br>"Oh," said Sherwood comfortably, "I was using real meanings, not just word tags. In my opinion real law and order, orderly doing of things, et cetera, are all on the other side."<br>"And the men--" cried Nan, aglow.<br>"The men are of course all noble, self-sacrificing, patriotic, immaculate demigods who--" He broke off, chuckling at Nan's expression. "No, seriously, I think they are doing a fine work, and that they'll go down in history."<br>"You're an old dear!" cried Nan, impulsively kissing his cheek.<br>"Take care,The+Gray+Dawn_167," he warned, "you're endangering my glasses and making my wife jealous."<br>Nan drew back, a little ashamed at having shown her feelings; and rather astonished herself at their intensity.<br>In the course of these conversations the pendulum with her began again to quiver at the descent. Through the calmly philosophical eye of the ex- gambler, John Sherwood, she partly envisaged the significance of what was happening--the struggling forth of real government from the sham. Her own troubles grew small by comparison. She began to feel nearer Keith in spirit than for some time past, to understand him better, even--though this was difficult--to get occasionally a glimpse of his relations toward herself. It was all very inchoate, instinctive,<p></p><p>cheap jordans</p><p></p>, unformed; rather an instinct than a clear view. She became restless; for she had no outlet either for her own excitement or the communicated excitement of the times. It was difficult to wait,<p></p><p></p><p></p>, and yet wait she must. For what? She did not know!<br>On the crucial June evening she sat by the lamp trying in vain to concentrate her attention on a book. The sound of the door bell made her jump. She heard Wing Sam's shuffle, and his cheerful greeting which all her training had been unable to eliminate. Wing Sam always met every caller with a smiling "Hello!" A moment later she arose in some surprise as Mrs. Morrell entered the room.<br>Relations between the women had never been broken off, though the pretence of ordinary cordiality had long since been dropped. When Mrs. Morrell found it expedient to make this call, she spent several hours trying to invent a plausible excuse. She was unable to do so. Finally she gave it up in angry despair.<br>"As long as it is not too bald, what difference does it make?" she said to herself cynically.<br>And out of this desperation, and by no means from cleverness, she hit on the cleverest thing possible. Instead of coming to make a friendly call, she pretended to be on an errand of protest.<br>"It's about your dog," she told Nan, "he's a dear good dog, and a great friend of ours. But cannot you shut him up nights? He's inclined to prowl around under my windows, and just the sound of him there keeps me awake. I know it's foolish; but I am so nervous these days--"<br>"Why, of course," said Nan with real contrition. "I'd no idea--"<br>Gringo was at the moment ingratiating himself with Wing Sam in re one soup bone of no use to anybody but dogs. If he could have heard Mrs. Morrell's indictment, <ul> | <p>jordan shoes for sale</p><p></p> movement, they nevertheless refused to become heated, and retained a spirit of humour. Sherwood was not a member of the Committee of Vigilance, but he had subscribed heavily--and openly--to its funds; he had assisted it with his counsels; and it was hinted that, sub-rosa, he had taken part in some of the more obscure but dangerous operations.<br>"I am an elderly, peace-loving, respectable citizen," he told Nan, "and I stand unequivocably for law and order and for justice, for the orderly doing of things; and against violence, mob spirit, and high-handedness."<br>"Why, John Sherwood!" cried Nan, up in arms at once. "I'd never have believed you could be on the side of Judge Terry and that stripe."<br>"Oho!" cried Sherwood, delighted to have drawn her. "Now we have it! But what made you think I was on that side?"<br>"Why--didn't you just say--"<br>"Oh," said Sherwood comfortably, "I was using real meanings, not just word tags. In my opinion real law and order, orderly doing of things, et cetera, are all on the other side."<br>"And the men--" cried Nan, aglow.<br>"The men are of course all noble, self-sacrificing, patriotic, immaculate demigods who--" He broke off, chuckling at Nan's expression. "No, seriously, I think they are doing a fine work, and that they'll go down in history."<br>"You're an old dear!" cried Nan, impulsively kissing his cheek.<br>"Take care,The+Gray+Dawn_167," he warned, "you're endangering my glasses and making my wife jealous."<br>Nan drew back, a little ashamed at having shown her feelings; and rather astonished herself at their intensity.<br>In the course of these conversations the pendulum with her began again to quiver at the descent. Through the calmly philosophical eye of the ex- gambler, John Sherwood, she partly envisaged the significance of what was happening--the struggling forth of real government from the sham. Her own troubles grew small by comparison. She began to feel nearer Keith in spirit than for some time past, to understand him better, even--though this was difficult--to get occasionally a glimpse of his relations toward herself. It was all very inchoate, instinctive,<p></p><p>cheap jordans</p><p></p>, unformed; rather an instinct than a clear view. She became restless; for she had no outlet either for her own excitement or the communicated excitement of the times. It was difficult to wait,<p></p><p></p><p></p>, and yet wait she must. For what? She did not know!<br>On the crucial June evening she sat by the lamp trying in vain to concentrate her attention on a book. The sound of the door bell made her jump. She heard Wing Sam's shuffle, and his cheerful greeting which all her training had been unable to eliminate. Wing Sam always met every caller with a smiling "Hello!" A moment later she arose in some surprise as Mrs. Morrell entered the room.<br>Relations between the women had never been broken off, though the pretence of ordinary cordiality had long since been dropped. When Mrs. Morrell found it expedient to make this call, she spent several hours trying to invent a plausible excuse. She was unable to do so. Finally she gave it up in angry despair.<br>"As long as it is not too bald, what difference does it make?" she said to herself cynically.<br>And out of this desperation, and by no means from cleverness, she hit on the cleverest thing possible. Instead of coming to make a friendly call, she pretended to be on an errand of protest.<br>"It's about your dog," she told Nan, "he's a dear good dog, and a great friend of ours. But cannot you shut him up nights? He's inclined to prowl around under my windows, and just the sound of him there keeps me awake. I know it's foolish; but I am so nervous these days--"<br>"Why, of course," said Nan with real contrition. "I'd no idea--"<br>Gringo was at the moment ingratiating himself with Wing Sam in re one soup bone of no use to anybody but dogs. If he could have heard Mrs. Morrell's indictment, <ul> | ||
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+ | == A dogrose blushin' to a brook == | ||
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+ | would be a boy again,?And be a father too!"<br>And so I laughed--my laughter woke?The household with its noise--?And wrote my dream, when morning broke,?To please the gray-haired boys.<br>_Oliver Wendell Holmes._<br>Washington's Birthday<br>The bells of Mount Vernon are ringing to-day,?And what say their melodious numbers?To the flag blooming air? List,<p></p><p>cheap jordans free shipping</p><p></p>, what do they say??"The fame of the hero ne'er slumbers!"<br>The world's monument stands the Potomac beside,?And what says the shaft to the river??"When the hero has lived for his country, and died,?Death crowns him a hero forever."<br>The bards crown the heroes and children rehearse?The songs that give heroes to story,?And what say the bards to the children? "No verse?Can yet measure Washington's glory.<br>"For Freedom outlives the old crowns of the earth,?And Freedom shall triumph forever,?And Time must long wait the true song of his birth?Who sleeps by the beautiful river."<br>_Hezekiah Butterworth._<br>April! April! Are You Here?<br>April! April! are you here??Oh, how fresh the wind is blowing!?See! the sky is bright and clear,?Oh, how green the grass is growing!?April! April! are you here?<br>April! April! is it you??See how fair the flowers are springing!?Sun is warm and brooks are clear,?Oh, how glad the birds are singing!?April! April! is it you?<br>April! April! you are here!?Though your smiling turn to weeping,?Though your skies grow cold and drear,?Though your gentle winds are sleeping,?April! April! you are here!<br>_Dora Read Goodale._<br>A Laughing Chorus<br>Oh, such a commotion under the ground?When March called, "Ho, there! ho!"?Such spreading of rootlets far and wide,?Such whispering to and fro;?And, "Are you ready?" the Snowdrop asked,?"'Tis time to start, you know."?"Almost, my dear," the Scilla replied;?"I'll follow as soon as you go."?Then, "Ha! ha! ha!" a chorus came?Of laughter soft and low,?From the millions of flowers under the ground,?Yes--millions--beginning to grow.<br>O, the pretty brave things! through the coldest days,?Imprisoned in walls of brown,?They never lost heart though the blast shrieked loud,?And the sleet and the hail came down,<br>But patiently each wrought her beautiful dress,?Or fashioned her beautiful crown;?And now they are coming to brighten the world,?Still shadowed by Winter's frown;?And well may they cheerily laugh, "Ha! ha!"?In a chorus soft and low,?The millions of flowers hid under the ground?Yes--millions--beginning to grow.<br>The Courtin'<br>God makes sech nights, all white an' still?Fur 'z you can look or listen,?Moonshine an' snow on field an' hill,?All silence an' all glisten.<br>Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown?An' peeked in thru the winder.?An' there sot Huldy all alone,?'ith no one nigh to hender.<br>A fireplace filled the room's one side?With half a cord o' wood in--?There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died)?To bake ye to a puddin'.<br>The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out?Towards the pootiest, bless her,?An' leetle flames danced all about?The chiny on the dresser.<br>Agin the chimbley crook-necks hung,?An' in amongst 'em rusted?The ole queen's-arm thet gran'ther Young?Fetched back from Concord busted.<br>The very room, coz she was in,?Seemed warm from floor to ceilin',?An' she looked full ez rosy agin?Ez the apples she was peelin'.<br>'Twas kin' o' kingdom-come to look?On sech a blessed cretur,?A dogrose blushin' to a brook?Ain't modester nor sweeter.<br>He was six foot o' man, A 1,<p></p><p>grit an' human natur';?None couldn't quicker pitch a ton?Nor dror a furrer straighter,<br>He'd sparked it with full twenty gals,?Hed squired 'em, danced 'em, druv 'em,?Fust this one, an' then thet, by spells--?All is, he couldn't love 'em,<br>But long o' her his veins 'ould run?All crinkly like curled maple,?The side she breshed felt full o' sun?Ez a south slope in Ap'il.<br>She thought no v'ice hed sech a swing?Ez hisn in the choir;?My! when he made Ole Hunderd ring,?She _knowed_ the Lord was nigher.<br>An' she'd blush scarlet, right in prayer,?When her new meetin'-bunnit?Felt somehow thru its crown a pair?O' blue eyes sot upun it.<br>Thet night, I tell ye, she looked _some!_?She seemed to 've gut a new soul,?For she felt sartin-sure he'd come,?Down to her very shoe-sole.<br>She heered a foot, an' knowed it tu,?A-raspin' on the scraper,--?All ways to once her feelin's flew?Like sparks in burnt-up paper.<br>He kin' o' l'itered on the mat,?Some doubtfle o' the sekle,?<ul> | ||
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