“Suppose we send Lad to the boarding kennels, at Ridgewood, till the brat is gone?” suggested the Master. “I hate to do it. And the good old chap will be blue with homesickness there. But at least he’ll get kind treatment. When he comes over to me and looks up into my eyes in that terribly appealing way, after Cyril has done some rotten thing to him,—well, I feel like a cur, not to be able to justify his faith that I can make things all right for him. Yes, I think I’ll send him to the boarding kennels. And, if it weren’t for leaving you alone to face things here, I’d be tempted to hire a stall at the kennels for myself, till the pest is gone.”
What made the situation the more difficult was the fact that the agricultural labourers, as soon as they were thoroughly organized, had the landowners, during the harvest time, at a peculiar disadvantage, because when work in the fields stopped, the standing grain ripened and spoiled and the landowner was ruined.
"Why couldn't you have come over, lantern and all, after dinner for a chat?"
learn he had been sent to other fields where skilled airmen were badly needed.”
MAMIE TAYLOR GEISSON.
If you take a cab at Trafalgar Square, however, and ride eastward down the Strand through Fleet Street, where all the principal newspapers of London are published, past the Bank of England, St. Paul's Cathedral, and the interesting sights and scenes of the older part of the city, you come, all of a sudden, into a very
Which do I like best, boiled mutton or roast mutton?——said the young man John. Like ’em both,——it a’n’t the color of ’em makes the goodness. I’ve been kind of lonely since schoolma’am went away. Used to like to look at her. I never said anything particular to her, that I remember, but——
As they stood there on the deck of the Thunderer and watched the stirring drama of sea and land forces in conflict, the two American boys realized that they were in touch with one of the grandest combats the world had ever known. History would so record it, they felt sure, as they gazed with rapt attention, taking in all the marvelous sights.
The entity that had been born of Herrell McCray was now larger than a sun. He could see, all around him, the wonder and beauty of the great gas cloud in which his body rested, on one tiny planet of one trivial star. His sense of time was not changed from what it had been—he could count the pulses of his own body, still thudding in what, however remote, was his ear—but he could see things that were terribly slow and vast. He could see the friction of the streamers of gas in the cloud as light-pressure drove them outward. He could hear the subtle emanations of ion clashing with hurtling ion. He could see the great blue new suns tunneling through the cloud, building their strength out of the diffuse contaminated hydrogen that made the Orion nebula, leaving relatively clear "holes" behind them. He could see into the gas and through it. He could perceive each star and gassy comet; and he could behold the ordered magnificence of the galaxy of stars, and the universe of galaxies, beyond.详情 ➢
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