"What were you ever sent here to the College for? And since when has it been turned from a House of God into a training-school for every worthless cockatrice that would follow the drum? Tell me, sir, what did you come here for?" he stormed.
Outside, the night was settling down bitterly chill. A drifting snow was sifting over the frozen earth. The winter’s worst cold spell was beginning. But in the firelit kitchen a hope-blasted and swindled man was gripped by a boiling rage that all the frigid outer world could not have cooled.
Miss Graceley (rather nervously). I feel that I can say I know my Lord Lytton, my Edna Lyall, my Charlotte M. Yonge and my Tennyson. I have always remained content with them, and after what Miss Vera Potting, M.A., has said about Mr Masefield in her most interesting paper, I shall remain content with them.
The irregulars, heads bowed, replied, "Namu Amida Butsu," Glory to the Amida Buddha! Hartford, though his training as an Axenite trooper had left him as untouched by religions as by microbes, joined the prayer, feeling that a degree of celestial interest in their stratagem would not be unwelcome.
"String them along?" Magnan suggested.
came to a halt in front of her. Apparently Mr. Kennard did not see him.
A man who had been born blind once recited his experiences there. “Oh, Christians, look on me! I was blind from my birth and saw no light till I came to the blessed well; now I see the water and the speckled trout down at the bottom, with the white cross on his back. Glory be to God for the cure.” And when the people heard that he could really see the speckled trout, of course they all believed in the miracle. For a tradition exists that a sacred trout has lived there from time immemorial, placed in the well by the saint who first sanctified the water. Now there was an adventurous man who desired much to get possession of this trout, and he watched it till at last he caught it asleep. Then he carried it off and put it on the gridiron. The trout bore the grilling of one side very patiently; but when the man tried to turn it on the fire, the trout suddenly jumped up and made off as hard as it could back to the well, where it still lives, and can be seen at times by those who have done proper penance and paid their dues to the priest, with one side all streaked and marked brown by the bars of the gridiron, which can never be effaced.
Ef I don’t make a hole down dar
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