Mrs. Greaves left her seat. She intended that these "tattle-snakes," as she dubbed all scandalmongers, should suffer disappointment. If she could help it there should be no thrilling little
Persephone smiled. “I am glad I do not have to serve in the capacity of king’s counsellor. My talents evidently lie in a different direction. I can not cause battles to be fought or not, at will.”
Next morning all available fox traps for some miles around were on duty in the woods and among the hilltop rock-barrens. Every man who understood the first thing about fox hunting was abroad with gun and dog, as well as local wealth-seekers to whom the fine art of tracking foxes was merely a thing of hearsay. In that meagre community and in that meagre time of a meagre year, the lure of , to say nothing of 5, was irresistible. The village went afield.
In relation to all these most intimate aspects of life, Socialism, and Socialism alone, supplies the hope and suggestions of clean and practicable solutions. So far, Socialists have either been silent or vague, or—let us say—tactful, in relation to this central tangle of life. To begin to speak plainly among the silences and suppressions, the “find out for yourself” of the current time, would be, I think, to grip the middle-class woman and the middle-class youth of both sexes with an extraordinary new interest, to irradiate the dissensions of every bored couple and every squabbling family with broad conceptions,
So A-bra-ham Lin-coln took his sad-dle-bags up
A little group of English people stood outside the door of a first-class compartment, a saloon-shaped compartment that to those unaccustomed to travel in the East would perhaps have seemed luxurious; but in a country where journeys may last for days and nights on end a certain degree of comfort becomes a necessity. Mrs. Greaves had come to the station to see Mrs. Munro, her friend, and little Trixie Munro, her godchild, off to
“Say!” reported Holt, to the group of idling men at the stove-side. “That Venner cuss ain’t loony, after all. Gannett told me all about them silver foxes. They’re true, all right. Showed me a picture of one. The spitting image of the one I seen. Gave me this circ’lar to prove it. It was sent to him by the gov’ment or by some sort of association. Listen here.”
of the two strong points on the Mis-sis-sip-pi Riv-er still held by the foe. The North had, at times, thought Grant “slow” but Lin-coln had great trust in him, and said, “Wait. Give him a chance.”
 London Education, Nineteenth Century, October 1903, p. 563.
Mrs. Munro's voice trembled; she was almost at the end of her endurance, and she began to cry in the silent, helpless manner peculiar to women of her down-trodden type. All her life she had been sacrificed to somebody; first to her brother, who had been considered in every way before herself; then to her husband's mother and sisters, since the greater part of Mr. Munro's pay had gone home towards their support, and he had died before he could save anything for his wife and child; and then to Trixie, who had always had what she wanted as far as the widow's slender means would permit, and of late had been "such a handful," to quote Mrs. Greaves and various other of the mother's old friends.
"Do you think so?" she asked doubtfully, in deference to his superior masculine wisdom.详情 ➢
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