Difference between revisions of "User:Ssnjturu"
From NexusWiki
Redirect page
(→As usual in a crisis neltz: new section) |
(→The+International+Weekly+Miscellany+-+Volume+I%2c+No.+4 150: new section) |
||
| (13 intermediate revisions by the same user not shown) | |||
| Line 1,005: | Line 1,005: | ||
" he said to himself. "Hard luck at his age, when an old man like me is left." But this was not quite honest. In his heart he felt there was nothing unnatural in Vincent's being taken or in his being left.<br>As usual in a crisis,cheap jordan shoes, Adelaide's behavior was perfect. She contrived to make her husband feel every instant the depth, the <ul> | " he said to himself. "Hard luck at his age, when an old man like me is left." But this was not quite honest. In his heart he felt there was nothing unnatural in Vincent's being taken or in his being left.<br>As usual in a crisis,cheap jordan shoes, Adelaide's behavior was perfect. She contrived to make her husband feel every instant the depth, the <ul> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <li> | ||
| + | |||
| + | </ul> | ||
| + | |||
| + | == toca ap茅nas la tierra y esconde su cabeza en las nubes njp == | ||
| + | |||
| + | espl茅ndido ropaje g贸tico que viste, su prodigiosa decoracion de estatuas,sus atrevidas flechas, sus elegantes detalles, sus formas galanas, todo hiere la imaginacion, todo admira y seduce. Coronando el edificio, y sobre la aguja mas alta, se destaca impalpable y a茅rea la estatua de la Virgen, fundida en bronce, esbelta y admirable; su actitud atrevida revela un gran pensamiento, ap茅nas tocan sus delicados pi茅s el ligero pedestal que la sustenta; se lanza 谩 los aires,globalonshop, toca ap茅nas la tierra y esconde su cabeza en las nubes, es la corona del templo.<br>Lo que causa verdadera pena al 谩nimo, es el observar las mutilaciones horribles que los viajeros, en su mayor parte ingleses, han pr谩cticado con un grande n煤mero de estatuas de las infinitas que coronan el templo. Es un verdadero sacrilegio maltratar las obras del genio y dejar atras 谩 los b谩rbaros, que sin duda las respetarian. Nosotros desear铆amos que se adoptasen medidas severas para impedir que los que visitan la Catedral tocasen 谩 objeto alguno.<br>Es un prodigioso espect谩culo el que ofrece al espectador que se coloca en lo alto del Domo, el poblado bosque de estatuas que coronan las gallardas agujas que suben hasta perderse en las nubes; su n煤mero parece fabuloso, pasan de seis mil las que existen.<br>La fachada principal se compone de cinco cuerpos elegantes, con sus soberbias puertas de entrada. Solo por el lado de la fachada principal se presenta el edificio en su majestuosa grandeza; los demas lienzos de su elegante construccion aparecen ocultos entre las api?adas casas que le cercan, lo cual produce una verdadera pena, pues la Catedral merecia presentarse sola y despejada 谩 la admiracion del viajero.<br>El interior del templo es tambien suntuoso 茅 imponente: cinco naves inmensas cruzan la iglesia en toda su longitud, y otra nave lateral, tan grande por s铆 sola como una iglesia,, forma una elegante cruz. Detras del altar mayor se abren tres grandes rosetas de ciento cuarenta y cuatro cristales cada una, pintadas con la mayor riqueza de colores imaginable.<br>El coro, unido al altar mayor, es magn铆fico: adornado con primorosos bajos relieves; debajo est谩 la tumba de San C谩rlos, que merece verse.<br>La mejor calle de Milan es la del Corso, especie de boulevard, aunque sin 谩rboles y sin grande anchura; le adornan algunos palacios y buenos edificios, muchos y elegantes comercios, caf茅s, y hoteles (albergos).<br>Cerca de la catedral, 谩 su izquierda, est谩 el palacio imperial, donde habit贸 Napoleon: merece verse; encierra algunos buenos cuadros y hay una magn铆fica capilla, soberbios salones y objetos de arte.<br>La plaza de armas, donde est谩 el arco de la Paz, es colosalmente grande: no dej贸 de chocarme en el acto que lo v铆, el castillo y las fortificaciones vecinos del arco de la | ||
| + | |||
| + | == * means estimated tocjs == | ||
| + | |||
| + | of computer users. Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): eBooks Year Month 1 1971 July 10 1991 January 100 1994 January 1000 1997 August 1500 1998 October 2000 1999 December 2500 2000 December 3000 2001 November 4000 2001 October/November 6000 2002 December* 9000 2003 November* 10000 2004 January* The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. We need your donations more than ever! As of February, 2002,?option=com_kunena&view=topic&catid=7&id=22554&Itemid=362#22548, contributions are being solicited from people and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas,rocksneaker, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, Oklahoma,, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, | ||
| + | |||
| + | == Florida szczw == | ||
| + | |||
| + | of computer users. Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): eBooks Year Month 1 1971 July 10 1991 January 100 1994 January 1000 1997 August 1500 1998 October 2000 1999 December 2500 2000 December 3000 2001 November 4000 2001 October/November 6000 2002 December* 9000 2003 November* 10000 2004 January* The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. We need your donations more than ever! As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts,, Michigan, Mississippi,Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee,rocksneaker, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, | ||
| + | |||
| + | == "Were they == | ||
| + | |||
| + | <ul> | ||
| + | |||
| + | </ul>Sir Humphrey," said I. "'Tis very simple: Mistress Mary hath the goods for which she sent to England."<br>"Master Wingfield, you know those are my Lady Culpeper's goods, and I have no right to them," cried Mary. But I bowed and said, "Madam, the goods are yours, and not Lady Culpeper's."<br>"But I--I lied when I gave the list to my grandmother," she cried out, half sobbing, for she was, after all,<p></p><p>cheap jordan shoes</p><p></p>, little more than a child tiptoed to womanhood by enthusiasm.<br>"Madam," said I, and I bowed again. "You mistake yourself; Mistress Mary Cavendish cannot lie, and the goods are in truth yours."<br>She and Sir Humphrey looked at each other; then Harry made a stride forward, and forcing back his horse with one hand, grasped me with the other. "Harry, Harry," he said in a whisper. "Tell me, for God's sake, what have you done."<br>"The goods are Mistress Mary Cavendish's," said I. They looked at me as I have seen folk look at a page of Virgil.<br>"Were they, after all, not my Lady Culpeper's?" asked Sir Humphrey.<br>"They are Mistress Mary Cavendish's," said I.<br>Mary turned suddenly to Sir Humphrey. "'Tis time you were gone now, Humphrey," she said, softly. "'Twas only last night you were here, and there is need of caution, and your mother--"<br>But Humphrey was loth to go. "'Tis not late," he said, "and I would know more of this matter."<br>"You will never know more of Master Wingfield, if that is what you wait for," she returned, with a half laugh, "and, Humphrey, your sister Cicely said but this morning that your mother was over-curious. I pray you, go, and Master Wingfield will take me home. I pray you,<p></p><p>cheap jordans</p><p></p>, go!"<br>Sir Humphrey took her hand and bent low over it, and murmured something; then, before he sprang to his saddle, he came close to me again. "Harry," he whispered, "she should not be in this business, and I would have not had it so could I have helped it, and, I pray you, have a care to her safety." This he spoke so low that Mary could not hear, and, moreover, she, with one of those sudden turns of hers that made her have as many faces of delight as a diamond in the sun, had thrown an arm around the neck of Sir Humphrey's mare, and was talking to her in such dulcet tones as her lovers would have died for the sake of hearing in their ears.<br>"Have no fears for her safety," I whispered back. "So far as the goods go, there is no more danger."<br>"What did you, Harry?"<br>"Sir Humphrey," I whispered back, while Mary's sweet voice in the mare's delicate ear sounded like a song, "sometimes an unguessed riddle hath less weight than a guessed one, and some fish of knowledge had best be left in the stream. I tell thee she is safe." So saying, I looked him full in his honest, boyish face, which was good to see, though sometime I wished, for the maid's sake, that it had more shrewdness of wit in it. Then he gave me a great grasp of the hand, and whispered something hoarsely. "Thou art a good fellow, Harry, in spite of, in spite of--" then he bent low over Mary's hand for the second time, and sprang to his saddle, and was off toward Jamestown on his white mare, flashing along the moonlit road like a whiter moonbeam.<br>Then Mary came close to me, and did what she had never before done since she was a child. She laid her little hand on my arm of her own accord. "Master Wingfield,<p></p><p>/</p><p></p>," said she, softly, "what about the goods?"<br>"The goods for which you sent to England are yours and in the great house," said I, and I heard my voice tremble.<br>She drew her hand away and stood looking at me, and her sweet forehead under her golden curls was all knitted with perplexity.<br>"You know, you know I--lied," she whispered like a guilty child.<br>"You cannot lie," I answered, "and the goods are yours."<br>"And not my Lady Culpeper's?"<br>"And not my Lady Culpeper's."<br>Mary continued looking at me, then all at once her forehead cleared.<br>"Catherine, 'twas Catherine," she cried out. "She said not, but well I know her; she would not own to it--the sweetheart. Sure a falsehood to hide a loving deed is the best truth of the world. 'Twas Catherine, 'twas Catherine, the sweetheart, the darling. She sent for naught for herself, and hath been saving for a year's time and maybe sold a ring or two. Somehow she discovered about the plot, what I had done. And she hath heard me say, that I know well, that I thought 'twas a noble list of Lady Culpeper's, and I wished I were a governor's wife or daughter, that I could have such fine things. I remember me well that I told her thus before ever the Golden Horn sailed for England, that time after Cicely Hyde slept with me and told me what she had from Cate Culpeper. A goodly portion of the | ||
| + | |||
| + | == David. You've done a big thing for me--for the Argus == | ||
| + | |||
| + | <ul> | ||
| + | |||
| + | </ul> | ||
| + | "And you have made it serve your turn, too?"<br>"No." Kent's voice was sharp and crisp.<br>"Isn't that what you got it for?"<br>"Yes."<br>"Then why don't you use it,<p></p><p>cheap jordan shoes</p><p></p>?"<br>"That was what Bucks wanted to know a little while ago when he came to my rooms to try to buy me off. I don't think I succeeded in making him understand why I couldn't traffic with it; and possibly you wouldn't understand."<br>"I guess I do. It's public property,<p></p><p>and you couldn't divert it into private channels. Is that the way it struck you?"<br>"It is the way it struck a friend of mine whose sense of ultimate right and wrong hasn't lost its fine edge in the world-mill,<p></p><p>cheap jordans</p><p></p>. I did not want to do it."<br>"Naturally," said the editor. "Giving it up means the loss of all you have been working for in the railroad game. I wish I could use it, just as it stands."<br>"Can't you?"<br>"I am afraid not--effectively. It would make an issue in a campaign; or, sprung on the eve of an election, it might down the ring conclusively. I think it would. But this is the off year, and the people won't rise to a political issue--couldn't make themselves felt if they should."<br>"I don't agree with you. You have your case all made out, with the evidence in sound legal form. What is to prevent your trying it?"<br>"The one thing that you ought to be lawyer enough to see at a glance. There is no court to try it in. With the Assembly in session we might do something: as it is, we can only yap at the heels of the ringsters, and our yapping won't help you in the railroad fight. What do you hear from Boston?"<br>"Nothing new. The stock is still flat on the market, with the stock-holders' pool holding a bare majority, and the Plantagould brokers buying in driblets wherever they can find a small holder who is willing to let go. It is only a question of time; and a very short time at that."<br>The editor wagged his head in sympathy.<br>"I wish I could help you, David. You've done a big thing for me--for the Argus; and all I have to hand you in return is a death sentence. MacFarlane is back."<br>"Here? In town?"<br>"Yes. And that isn't the worst of it. The governor sent for him."<br>"Have you any idea what is in the wind?" asked Kent, dry-lipped.<br>"I am afraid I have. My young men have been nosing around in the Trans-Western affair, and several things have developed. Matters are approaching a crisis. The cut-rate boom is about to collapse, and there is trouble brewing in the labor organizations. If Bucks doesn't get his henchmen out of it pretty soon, they will be involved in the smash--which will be bad for them and for him, politically."<br>"I developed most of that a good while ago," Kent cut in.<br>"Yes; I know. But there is more to follow. The stock-smashing plan was all right, but it is proving too slow. Now they are going to do something else."<br>"Can you give it a name?" asked Kent, nerving himself.<br>"I can. But first tell me one thing: as matters stand, could Guilford dispose of the road--sell it or lease it?"<br>"No; he would first have to be made permanent receiver and be given authority by the court."<br>"Ah! that explains Judge MacFarlane's return. Now what I am going to tell you is the deadest of secrets. It came to me from one of the Overland officials, and I'm not supposed to gossip. Did you know the Overland Short | ||
| + | |||
| + | == is liable to neglect == | ||
| + | |||
| + | chosen literature as the occupation of his life; with money and success as his only aim he would surely have become a stockbroker or a moneylender. In the second place, Edwin Reardon's dire failure, with his rapid descent into extreme poverty, is clearly traceable not so much to a truly artistic temperament in conflict with the commercial spirit, as to mental and moral weakness, which could not but have a baneful influence upon his work.'<br>[Footnote 13: F. Dolman in National Review, vol. xxx.; cf. ibid., vol. xliv.]<br>This criticism does not seem to me a just one at all, and I dissent from it completely. In the first place, the book is not nearly so depressing as The Nether World, and is much farther removed from the strain of French and Russian pessimism which had begun to engage the author's study when he was writing Thyrza. There are dozens of examples to prove that Milvain's success is a perfectly normal process, and the reason for his selecting the journalistic career is the obvious one that he has no money to begin stock-broking, still less money-lending. In the third place, the mental and moral shortcomings of Reardon are by no means dissembled by the author. He is, as the careful student of the novels will perceive, a greatly strengthened and improved rifacimento of Kingcote, while Amy Reardon is a better observed Isabel, regarded from a slightly different point of view. Jasper Milvain is, to my thinking, a perfectly fair portrait of an ambitious publicist or journalist of the day--destined by determination, skill, energy, and social ambition to become an editor of a successful journal or review, and to lead the life of central London. Possessing a keen and active mind, expression on paper is his handle; he has no love of letters as letters at all. But his outlook upon the situation is just enough. Reardon has barely any outlook at all. He is a man with a delicate but shallow vein of literary capacity, who never did more than tremble upon the verge of success, and hardly, if at all, went beyond promise. He was unlucky in marrying Amy, a rather heartless woman, whose ambition was far in excess of her insight, for economic position Reardon had none. He writes books to please a small group. The books fail to please. Jasper in the main is right--there is only a precarious place for any creative litterateur between the genius and the swarm of ephemera or journalists. A man writes either to please the hour or to produce something to last, relatively a long time,<p></p><p>cheap jordans free shipping</p><p></p>, several generations--what we call 'permanent.' The intermediate position is necessarily insecure. It is not really wanted. What is lost by society when one of these mediocre masterpieces is overlooked? A sensation, a single ray in a sunset,<p></p><p>missed by a small literary coterie! The circle is perhaps eclectic. It may seem hard that good work is overwhelmed in the cataract of production, while relatively bad, garish work is rewarded. But so it must be. 'The growing flood of literature swamps every thing but works of primary genius.' Good taste is valuable, especially when it takes the form of good criticism. The best critics of contemporary books (and these are by no means identical with the best critics of the past and its work) are those who settle intuitively upon the writing that is going to appeal more largely to a future generation, when the attraction of novelty and topicality has subsided. The same work is done by great men. They anticipate lines of action; philosophers generally follow (Machiavelli's theories the practice of Louis XI., Nietzsche's that of Napoleon I.). The critic recognises the tentative steps of genius in letters. The work of fine delicacy and reserve, the work that follows, lacking the real originality, is liable to neglect, and may become the victim of ill-luck, unfair influence, or other extraneous factors. Yet on the whole, so numerous are the publics of to-day, there never, perhaps, was a time when supreme genius or even supreme talent was so sure of recognition. Those who rail against these conditions, as Gissing seems here to have done, are actuated consciously or unconsciously by a personal or sectional disappointment. It is akin to the crocodile lament of the publisher that good modern literature is neglected by the public, or the impressionist's lament about the great unpaid greatness of the great unknown--the exclusively literary view of literary rewards. Literature must be governed by over-mastering impulse or directed at profit.<br>But New Grub Street is rich in memorable characters and situations to an extent unusual in Gissing; Biffen in his garret--a piece of <ul> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <li>#comments</li> | ||
| + | |||
| + | </ul> | ||
| + | |||
| + | == peace-loving == | ||
| + | |||
| + | <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> | ||
| + | |||
| + | </ul> | ||
| + | |||
| + | == A dogrose blushin' to a brook == | ||
| + | |||
| + | 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> | ||
| + | |||
| + | </ul> | ||
| + | |||
| + | == Lucile 91 == | ||
| + | |||
| + | <p>cheap jordans free shipping</p><p></p> | ||
| + | 相关的主题文章： | ||
| + | <ul> | ||
| + | |||
| + | </ul>brawler more stalwart of stature and limb. That it irk'd him,Lucile_91, in truth, you at times could divine, For when low was the music,<p></p><p>jordanspacejam.com</p><p></p>, and spilt was the wine, He would clutch at the garment, as though it oppress'd And stifled some impulse that choked in his breast.<br>X.<br>What! he, . . . the light sport of his frivolous ease! Was he, too, a prey to a mortal disease? My friend, hear a parable: ponder it well: For a moral there is in the tale that I tell. One evening I sat in the Palais Royal, And there, while I laugh'd at Grassot and Arnal, My eye fell on the face of a man at my side; Every time that he laugh'd I observed that he sigh'd, As though vex'd to be pleased. I remark'd that he sat Ill at ease on his seat, and kept twirling his hat In his hand, with a look of unquiet abstraction. I inquired the cause of his dissatisfaction. "Sir," he said, "if what vexes me here you would know, Learn that, passing this way some few half-hours ago,<p></p><p>cheap jordan shoes</p><p></p>, I walk'd into the Francais,Lucile_91, to look at Rachel. (Sir, that woman in Phedre is a miracle!)--Well, I ask'd for a box: they were occupied all: For a seat in the balcony: all taken! a stall: Taken too: the whole house was as full as could be,-- Not a hole for a rat! I had just time to see The lady I love tete-a-tete with a friend In a box out of reach at the opposite end: Then the crowd push'd me out. What was left me to do? I tried for the tragedy . . . que voulez-vous? Every place for the tragedy book'd! . . . mon ami. The farce was close by: . . . at the farce me voici. The piece is a new one: and Grassot plays well: There is drollery, too, in that fellow Ravel: And Hyacinth's nose is superb: . . . yet I meant My evening elsewhere, and not thus to have spent. Fate orders these things by her will, not by ours! Sir, mankind is the sport of invisible powers."<br>I once met the Duc de Luvois for a moment; And I mark'd, when his features I fix'd in my comment, O'er those features the same vague disquietude stray I had seen on the face of my friend at the play; And I thought that he too, very probably, spent His evenings not wholly as first he had meant.<br>XI.<br>O source of the | ||
| + | |||
| + | == Mr+Jack+Hamlins+Mediation 85 == | ||
| + | |||
| + | shock had passed, her old independence and pride came to her relief. She would go to the spot and examine it. If it were some trick or illusion, she would show her superiority and have the laugh on Starbuck. She set her white teeth,<p></p><p>louis vuitton outlet</p><p></p>, clenched her little hands, and started out into the moonlight. But alas! for women's weakness. The next moment she uttered a scream and almost fell into the arms of Mr. Starbuck,<p></p><p>who had stepped out of the shadows beside her.<br>"So you see you HAVE been frightened," he said, with a strange, forced laugh; "but I warned you about going out alone!"<br>Even in her fright she could not help seeing that he, too,<p></p>, seemed pale and agitated, at which she recovered her tongue and her self- possession.<br>"Anybody would be frightened by being dogged about under the trees," she said pertly.<br>"But you called out before you saw me," he said bluntly, "as if something had frightened you. That was WHY I came towards you."<br>She knew it was the truth; but as she would not confess to her vision, she fibbed outrageously.<br>"Frightened," she said, with pale but lofty indignation. "What was there to frighten me? I'm not a baby, to think I see a bogie in the dark!" This was said in the faint hope that HE had seen something too. If it had been Larry or her father who had met her, she would have confessed everything.<br>"You had better go in," he said curtly. "I will see you safe inside the house."<br>She demurred at this, but as she could not persist in her first bold intention of examining the locality of the vision without admitting its existence, she permitted him to walk with her to the house, and then at once fled to her own room. Larry and her father noticed their entrance together and their agitated manner, and were uneasy. Yet the colonel's paternal pride and Larry's lover's respect kept the two men from communicating their thoughts to each other.<br>"The confounded pup has been tryin' to be familiar, and Polly's set him down," thought Larry, with glowing satisfaction.<br>"He's been trying some of his sanctimonious Yankee abolition talk on Polly, and she shocked him!" thought the colonel exultingly.<br>But poor Polly had other things to think of in the silence of her room. Another woman would have unburdened herself to a confidante; but Polly was too loyal to her father to shatter his beliefs, and too high-spirited to take another and a lesser person into her confidence. She was certain that Aunt Chloe would be full of sympathetic belief and speculations, but she would not trust a nigger with what she couldn't tell her own father. For Polly really and truly believed that she had seen a ghost, no doubt the ghost of the murdered Sobriente, according to Larry's story. WHY he should appear with only his head above ground puzzled her, although it suggested the Catholic idea of purgatory, and he was a Catholic! Perhaps he would have risen entirely but for that stupid Starbuck's presence; perhaps he had a message for HER alone. The idea pleased Polly, albeit it was a "fearful joy" and attended with some cold shivering. Naturally, as a gentleman, he would appear to HER--the daughter of a gentleman--the successor to his | ||
| + | 相关的主题文章： | ||
| + | <ul> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <li>?do=newthread&f=3</li> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <li> | ||
| + | |||
| + | </ul> | ||
| + | |||
| + | == Les+Grandes+Dames 167 == | ||
| + | |||
| + | plaisir, mesdames! Voil锟斤拷 le plaisir!?<br>D'Ayguesvives connaissait la comtesse Bobrinsko?, cette grande dame russe qui a apport锟斤拷 锟斤拷 Paris, avec ses marbres italiens, ses tableaux flamands et ses meubles en porcelaine de Saxe, l'art perdu des anciennes causeries. Il alla pour la voir, mais il ne trouva chez elle qu'un de ses amis, un peintre italien, Raimondo Marchio, qui ne fit pas de fa?ons pour r锟斤拷pondre aux questions du duc; il le conduisit dans le jardin qui s锟斤拷parait les deux h?tels. ?Est-ce qu'on ne se met jamais 锟斤拷 la fen锟斤拷tre, demanda d'Ayguesvives.--Jamais. Une seule fois j'ai vu trois dames que j'aurais voulu peindre, tant elles repr锟斤拷sentaient mon id锟斤拷al pour les trois vertus th锟斤拷ologales que le pape m'a demand锟斤拷es.--Ce sont donc des dames de charit锟斤拷?--Non, mais elles 锟斤拷taient group锟斤拷es avec un abandon charmant, s'appuyant l'une sur l'autre, dans la d锟斤拷sinvolture italienne; celle du milieu 锟斤拷tait la plus belle: celle-l锟斤拷 je l'ai reconnue, car elle habite les Champs-Elys锟斤拷es.--Mais qui est-ce qui habite l'h?tel.--Oh! pour cela, nous n'en savons rien. Il est d'ailleurs si peu habit锟斤拷, qu'on appelle cela un pied-锟斤拷-terre.--Ma foi, c'est un joli pied. Connaissez-vous le propri锟斤拷taire?--Oui, un original de la rue du Cherche-Midi 锟斤拷 quatorze heures; la comtesse a voulu lui acheter ce petit h?tel pour agrandir son jardin. Il lui a r锟斤拷pondu ceci, ou 锟斤拷 peu pr锟斤拷s: ?Madame, je suis au soleil et vous vous 锟斤拷tes 锟斤拷 l'ombre; je suis Diog锟斤拷ne, et vous 锟斤拷tes Alexandre, je ne vends pas mon soleil.?<br>D'Ayguesvives comprit qu'on ne saurait rien par un pareil propri锟斤拷taire. ?Croyez-vous que ces dames payent leur loyer?--Sans doute, mais je n'ai pas vu en quelle monnaie.?<br>D'Ayguesvives regarda le peintre italien. ?Mais vous 锟斤拷tes convaincu que ce sont des femmes du monde?--Oui, mais panach锟斤拷es de quelques femmes du demi-monde, car, il y a quelques jours,<p> </p>, il m'a bien sembl锟斤拷 reconna?tre une d锟斤拷esse des Bouffes, sans compter que Mlle Th锟斤拷r锟斤拷sa y a chant锟斤拷 ses chansons.--Ce doit 锟斤拷tre fort amusant,<p></p>, ce petit int锟斤拷rieur-l锟斤拷! Est-ce que ces dames ne lancent pas des invitations? Je voudrais bien m'inscrire.--Oh non! il para?t qu'on s'amuse entre soi.? Tout en regardant le petit h?tel, d'Ayguevives 锟斤拷tait de plus en plus convaincu qu'on avait bien choisi pour se cacher. Certes, ce n'锟斤拷tait pas l锟斤拷 une maison de verre: 锟斤拷 gauche et 锟斤拷 droite un pignon sans fen锟斤拷tre; au nord un jardin 锟斤拷tranger, celui de la comtesse, mais masqu锟斤拷 par la serre au rez-de-chauss锟斤拷e et les persiennes du premier 锟斤拷tage; au midi une fa?ade visible, mais au bout d'un jardin inaccessible.<br>D'Ayguesvives s'en alla comme il 锟斤拷tait venu,<p></p><p></p><p></p>, sans se vanter 锟斤拷 ses amis qu'il avait si bien cherch锟斤拷 pour ne rien trouver. ?C'est 锟斤拷gal, se disait-il avec impatience, je ne d锟斤拷sesp锟斤拷re pas d'avoir le mot de cette 锟斤拷nigme.?<br>Il alla voir Mme de Montmartel pour poser des points d'interrogation. Mais, de m锟斤拷me qu'il avait tourn锟斤拷 autour de l'h?tel sans pouvoir y entrer, il tourna autour de la belle railleuse. Elle lui dit: ?Vous connaissez le mot du bon Dieu: ?Frappez et on vous ouvrira,? mais moi je ne suis pas le bon Dieu: on frappe et je n'ouvre pas.--Oh! oh! si c'锟斤拷tait Parisis, vous ouvririez!--Parisis! dit Messaline blonde, celui-l锟斤拷 ne frappe pas, car il passe par la fen锟斤拷tre.?<br><br>XVIII<br>LES INS锟斤拷PARABLES<br>Alors on parlait beaucoup de deux soeurs fort belles, une brune et une blonde: Mme de N锟斤拷ers et Mme de Montmartel. La brune aimait l'锟斤拷glise; la blonde aimait les f锟斤拷tes. Aussi Mme de Montmartel fut-elle surnomm锟斤拷e Messaline blonde; tandis qu'on donnait 锟斤拷 sa soeur le bon Dieu sans confession.<br>Parisis eut un duel avec le mari de Mme de Montmartel, quoiqu'il ne f?t pas son amant; tandis qu'il fut toujours tr锟斤拷s bien dans les papiers de M. de N锟斤拷ers, quoique Mme de N锟斤拷ers lui f?t tomb锟斤拷e dans les bras un jour d'extase.<br>Et pourtant, ce jour-l锟斤拷, comme les autres, elle 锟斤拷tait coiff锟斤拷e 锟斤拷 la vierge, en opposition 锟斤拷 sa soeur qui 锟斤拷tait coiff锟斤拷e 锟斤拷 la diable.<br>Parisis qui avait raison de toutes les femmes mondaines, 锟斤拷choua donc devant les 锟斤拷clats de rire de Mme de Montmartel. Ce qui n'emp锟斤拷cha pas l'injuste opinion publique d'infliger sa r锟斤拷probation 锟斤拷 cette belle femme et de lui donner le surnom de Messaline blonde, parce qu'elle avait horreur des poses vertueuses.<br>Elle se moquait des aveuglements de l'opinion, avec son amie, la belle B锟斤拷rang锟斤拷re de Saint-R锟斤拷al, une autre blonde, non moins joyeuse, qui avait soif de curiosit锟斤拷s. Elles se rencontraient 锟斤拷 l'H?tel du Plaisir-Mesdames.<br>Mme de Montmartel disait 锟斤拷 B锟斤拷rang锟斤拷re de Saint-R锟斤拷al, qui lui parlait de Mme de N锟斤拷ers: ?Savez-vous la diff锟斤拷rence qu'il y a entre | ||
| + | 相关的主题文章： | ||
| + | <ul> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <li>?page=item&id=23115</li> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <li> | ||
| + | |||
| + | </ul> | ||
| + | |||
| + | == The+Lady+From+The+Sea 70 == | ||
| + | |||
| + | profile. He never looks at me, only he is there. Wangel. How do you think he looks? Ellida. Exactly as when I saw him last. Wangel. Ten years ago? Ellida. Yes; out there at Bratthammeren. Most distinctly of all I see his breastpin, with a large bluish-white pearl in it. The pearl is like a dead fish's eye, and it seems to glare at me. Wangel. Good God! You are more ill than I thought. More ill than you yourself know,<p></p><p></p><p></p>, Ellida. Ellida. Yes,<p> </p>, yes! Help me if you can, for I feel how it is drawing closer and more close. Wangel. And you have gone about in this state three whole years, bearing for yourself this secret suffering,<p></p><p>louis vuitton outlet</p><p></p>, without confiding in me. Ellida. But I could not; not till it became necessary for your own sake. If I had confided in you I should also have had to confide to you the unutterable. Wangel. Unutterable? Ellida. No, no, no! Do not ask. Only one thing, nothing more. Wangel, when shall we understand that mystery of the boy's eyes? Wangel. My dear love, Ellida, I assure you it was only your own fancy | ||
| + | 相关的主题文章： | ||
| + | <ul> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <li> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <li>?topic=207678.msg234003#msg234003</li> | ||
| + | |||
| + | </ul> | ||
| + | |||
| + | == Moorish+Literature 75 == | ||
| + | |||
| + | life among the dead. "I would not deign with falsehood's stain my lineage to betray; Tho' for the truth my life, in sooth, should be the price I pay. I am son and squire of a Moorish sire, who with the Christians strove,?And the captive dame of Christian name was his fair wedded love; And I a child from that mother mild, who taught me at her knee Was ever told to be true and bold with a tongue that was frank and free,?That the liar's art and the caitiff heart would lead to the house of doom;?And still I must hear my mother dear, for she speaks to me from the tomb.?Then give me my task, O King, and ask what question thou mayst choose;?I will give to you the word that is true, for why should I refuse?" "I give you grace for your open face, and the courteous words you use.?What castles are those on the hill where grows the palm-tree and the pine??They are so high that they touch the sky, and with gold their pinnacles shine."?"In the sunset's fire there glisten, sire, Alhambra's tinted tiles; And somewhat lower Alijire's tower upon the vega smiles,?And many a band of subtile hand has wrought its pillared aisles. The Moor whose thought and genius wrought those works for many moons Received each day a princely pay--five hundred gold doubloons-- Each day he left his labor deft, his guerdon was denied;?Nor less he lost than his labor cost when he his hand applied. And yonder I see the Generalif锟斤拷 with its orchard green and wide; There are growing there the apple and pear that are Granada's pride. There shadows fall from the soaring wall of high Bermeja's tower; It has nourished long as a castle strong, the seat of the Soldan's power."?The King had bent and his ear had lent to the words the warrior spoke,?And at last he said, as he raised his head before the crowd of folk: "I would take thee now with a faithful vow, Granada for my bride, King Juan's Queen would hold, I ween,<p></p>, a throne and crown of pride; That very hour I would give thee dower that well would suit thy will;?Cordova's town should be thine own, and the mosque of proud Seville. Nay, ask not, King,<p></p><p></p><p></p>, for I wear the ring of a faithful wife and true; Some graceful maid or a widow arrayed in her weeds is the wife for you,?And close I cling to the Moorish King who holds me to his breast, For well I ween it can be seen that of all he loves me best."<br>ABENAMAR'S JEALOUSY<br>Alhambra's bell had not yet pealed?Its morning note o'er tower and field;?Barmeja's bastions glittered bright,<p></p><p>/</p><p></p>,?O'ersilvered with the morning light;?When rising from a pallet blest?With no refreshing dews of rest,?For slumber had relinquished there?His place to solitary care,?Brave Abenamar pondered deep?How lovers must surrender sleep.?And when he saw the morning rise,?While sleep still sealed Daraja's eyes,?Amid his tears, to soothe his pain,?He sang this melancholy strain:?"The morn is up,?The heavens alight,?My jealous soul?Still owns the sway of night.?Thro' all the night I wept forlorn,?Awaiting anxiously the morn;?And tho' no sunlight strikes on me,?My bosom burns with jealousy.?The twinkling starlets disappear;?Their radiance made my sorrow clear;?The sun has vanished from my sight,?Turned | ||
| + | 相关的主题文章： | ||
| + | <ul> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <li>?topic=334554.msg421345#msg421345</li> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <li> | ||
| + | |||
| + | </ul> | ||
| + | |||
| + | == The+International+Weekly+Miscellany+-+Volume+I%2c+No.+4 150 == | ||
| + | |||
| + | is the very highest praise that can be given to half-civilized as well as to civilized people. They are a bold, energetic, and industrious race. Every hour of weather fit for out-door work is spent in fishing and hunting, and preparing food for the winter. In the light sledge, or on skates, with nets and spears, they labored at each of these employments in its season. Toward the end of the long winter, just as famine and starvation threaten the whole population,<p></p><p>louis vuitton outlet</p><p></p>, a perfect cloud of swans, and geese, and ducks, and snipes, pour in; and man and woman, boy and girl, all rush forth to the hunt. The fish come in next, as the ice breaks; and presently the time for the reindeer hunt comes round. Every minute of the summer season is consumed in laying in a stock of all these aliments for a long and dreary season, when nothing can be caught. The women collect herbs and roots. As the summer is just about to end, the herrings appear in shoals, and a new source of subsistence is opened up,<p></p><p></p><p></p>, Later still,<p></p>, they fish by opening | ||
| + | 相关的主题文章： | ||
| + | <ul> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <li> | ||
<li> | <li> | ||
</ul> | </ul> | ||
