Mrs. Greaves stood on the platform of one of the largest railway stations in Upper India. The lights flashed down upon a pushing, shouting throng of dark-faced, turbaned humanity, for it was eight o'clock at night, and the mail train for Bombay was due to start in another few minutes. The chill, cold-weather mist of evening, creeping into the vast echoing station, seemed to compress the curious odours inseparable from an Eastern crowd--the sour exhalations, the commingling of spices and perfumes and garlic--and to prevent them from dispersing.
"Who are they goin' to bring forrerd, hev you heerd?" asked Mr. Spalding with interest.
Now eagerly he scanned the wonder collie. Every detail,—from the level mouth and chiselled, wedge-shaped head and stern eyes with their true “look of eagles,” to the fox brush tail with its sidewise swirl at the tip—Jamie scanned with the delight of an artist who comes for the first time on a Velasquez of which he has read and dreamed. Never in his dog-starred life had the little man beheld so perfect a collie. It was an education to him to study such a marvel.
"Dis heah way went on fer a while, an' mout er gone on twell now, but all de po' white trash dat Marse Page had intrusted wid de mortgage on de Shelter 'speck him ter pay de money back, an' co'se Marse Page didn't have it; ef he had had it, he wouldn' er borried de money nohow. An', ef you will b'lieve dis nigger, dem low-down white folks make Marse Page pay all he debts fur ez he could, an' de place wuz sol', an' de black folks went off, an' Marse Page an' Miss Letty had ter go an'
William Darby, another citizen of Natchez, in an account published in The Casket Magazine, in 1834, tells what occurred shortly after John Mason was whipped: “One of the jury, whose name I omit,” writes Darby, “made himself very conspicuous at the trial of John Mason, wishing before the whole court and audience, that ‘the rascal might be hung.’” By some means Samuel Mason received a report of the juryman’s statement. A few weeks later this same juror, returning to Natchez from one of the settlements, had occasion to ride over a bridle path through a heavy canebreak. He was suddenly confronted by Samuel Mason who stepped out of the cane, armed with a tomahawk and rifle, and, raising the rifle, pointed it at the
“As a very young child I remember my mother’s having mentioned, upon several occasions when we were alone, the Eleusinian Mysteries and my childish mind nourished by an exceptionally vivid imagination, dwelt a great deal upon the probable nature of these enigmatical rites.”
Destiny is at times a slashing sculptor. At first Destiny seemed to have intended Oswald Sydenham to be a specimen of the schoolboy hero; he made record scores in the school matches, climbed trees higher than any one else did, and was moreover a good all-round boy at his work; he was healthy, very tall but strong, dark, pleasant-looking, and popular with men and women and??he was quite aware of these facts. He shone with equal brightness as a midshipman; he dared, he could lead. Several women of thirty or thereabouts adored him??before it is good for youth to be adored. He had a knack of success, he achieved a number of things; he judged himself and found that this he had done ??pretty decently,?? and that ??passing well.?? Then Destiny decided apparently that he was not thinking as freshly or as abundantly as he ought to do??a healthy, successful life does not leave much time for original thinking??and smashed off the right side of his face. In a manner indeed quite creditable to him. It was given to few men in those pacific days to get the V.C. before the age of twenty-one.
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