The whole of the present system is riddled with discontents. One factor is the enhanced sense of the child in middle-class life: the old sentiment was that the parent owned the child, the new is that the children own the parents. There has come an intensified respect for children, an immense increase in the trouble, attention and expenditure devoted to them—and a very natural and human accompaniment in the huge fall in the middle-class birth-rate. It is felt that to bear and rear children is the most noble and splendid and responsible thing in life, and an increasing number of people modestly evade it. People see more clearly the social service of parentage,
turn state’s evidence, admitted having been connected with the outlaw. The situation was interesting, for it was an unusual one. The head, having been identified as Samuel Mason’s, the two heroes of the occasion went before a judge to make an affidavit and to get an order on the governor for the payment of the reward. “But just as the judge was in the act of making out a certificate,” writes Claiborne in his History of Mississippi, “a traveler stepped into the court room and requested to have the two men arrested. He had alighted at the tavern, had repaired to the stable to see his horse attended to, and there saw the horses of the two men who had arrived just before him. He recognized the horses (principally because each had a peculiar blaze in the face) as belonging to parties who had robbed him and killed one of his companions some two months previous on the Natchez Trace, and going into the court house, he identified the two men.”
“That’s bad,” said the Bishop consolingly—“but you ortenter aggravate her, Bud.”
Joe Kenyon stopped speaking, but for a time Arthur made no comment on the story he had just heard. His attention seemed to be following two strands at the same moment. One side of his mind was attempting to weigh his uncle's motives in making all these confidences. Had he and his sister been quarrelling? There had been more than one reference to Miss Kenyon that had sounded distinctly bitter, and the emphasis he had laid on his
Dawn deepened into daylight. Up came the winter sun, shouldering its sulky way through dun horizon mists. The day was on. And Ruff and Pitchdark were not yet within a mile of their hiding place.
The Aga Kaga guffawed. "For a diplomat, you speak plainly, Retief. Have another drink." He poured, eyeing Georges. "What of M. Duror? How does he feel about it?"
And drink of the mead and wine in the arms of thy lover.”
and little birds; and what are they compared with tigers?"
I was still silent, and Delane went on: “You think, I suppose, what’s the use? Why not let him stew in his own juice? With a decent allowance, of course. Well, I can’t say ... I can’t tell you ... only I feel it mustn’t be....”
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