Of course, the thing might not be operating.
of ideas, but by philosophical reflection. Trained in the philosophy which flourished in Italy in the 16th century, deeply imbued with the doctrines of Aristotle, and practised in all subtleties of the schools, Cesalpino was not the man to surrender himself quietly to the influence of nature on the unconscious powers of the mind; on the contrary, he sought from the first to bring all that he learnt from the writings of others and from his own acute observation of the forms of plants into subjection to his own understanding. Hence he approached the task of the scientific botanist in an entirely different way from that of de l’Obel and Kaspar Bauhin. It was by philosophical reflections on the nature of the plant and on the substantial and accidental value of its parts, according to Aristotelian conceptions, that he was led to distribute the vegetable kingdom into groups and sub-groups founded on definite marks.
“Where is the crew of this boat?” he asked.
——Did you ever see the young girl’s drawing-books,——I said, presently.
Could Eleanor put it in his hands? His thought turned towards her with a leap of hopeful anticipation. She had given him no sign so far that she had repented her manifest disapproval of him that morning. She, too, perhaps, was being continually swayed by the uncertainties bred of the Hartling condition. But it might be that she had not yet heard of the unsigned agreement that he had made in imitation of her own method? In any case, he had an excuse for asking her to have a little quiet talk with him. She owed him an explanation. He could even demand it....
All the criminals herein treated made their headquarters at one time or another in this famous cavern. It became a natural, safe hiding-place for the pirates who preyed on the flatboat traffic before the days of steamboats. It came also to serve the same purpose for highwaymen infesting the old Natchez Trace and other land trails north and south.
"How do you mean? How did I think he was looking? It has knocked him about a bit certainly. I got quite a shock at first when I saw
"But I say, look here," Arthur said, suddenly conscious for the first time that he might have been guilty of a breach of medical etiquette, "you don't mean to tell me that I've taken away one of your cases?"
trap came round. His mind was in chaos; he could not think connectedly. What was Trixie doing? Had she been taken ill at Mrs. Roy's bungalow? Or had Mrs. Roy been taken ill, and was Trixie staying with her for the night? Either reason, lots of reasons, would explain her absence. Yet beneath the plausible explaining there lurked a dreadful doubt that clutched malevolently at his heart.
He gave a little chuckle, which made her start—an odd, comical, single note of laughter, very cordial and very droll, like the little man himself.
CHAPTER II. THE NEW HOME AND THE FIRST GRIEF.
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