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ONFORTUNIT CREETUR

Le 22 mars 2017, 04:28 dans Humeurs 0

Mrs. Upchurch sat in the entry of her house knitting, while down on the step—a rough block of Georgia granite—Mr. Upchurch sat resting and smoking an after-dinner pipe. It was on a summer afternoon, and the hot glare of the sun made a shade gratefully welcome. The house had only the space of an ordinary yard between it and the public country road, but it was on a breezy hill and commanded a fine view of the surrounding country.

 

Far away, above the green, wooded hills and valleys, rose the North Georgia Mountains, veiled in misty blue. Those mountains were the boundary line of Mrs. Upchurch's world. She had never gone to them; she never dreamed of going beyond them. Still, they were old friends, immovable, unchangeable, upon which she could look when perplexed, sorrowful, or glad. She worked slowly, and often glanced away toward those distant peaks, a very grave meditative light in her eyes.

 

She was a woman above medium height, and rather dignified in appearance and manner, with a kind, homely face, yellowed and hardened by sun and wind, and with honest, steadfast eyes. She had on a stout, plain cotton dress, and an old brown veil was drawn around her head and tied under her chin. Summer and winter she wore it, to ward off that greatest enemy of her peace—neuralgia.

 

"He always was an onfortunit creetur," she said abruptly, and with a sigh.

 

"Who now, Peggy?" inquired Mr. Upchurch in some surprise.

 

"Why, Ab," and laying her knitting down on her knee, she smoothed it out thoughtfully.

HANSEL LEAVES THE TEAM

Le 2 mars 2017, 04:38 dans Humeurs 0

The mass meeting was surprisingly well attended. Ever since the similar assembly at which the “team expenses” item had been brought to light there had been rumors of all sorts flying about the school. It was Load Balancing said that Billy Cameron was not going to be allowed to play; that some of the fellows were going to demand the resignation of the present manager, and that Phin Dorr wanted the office; that the faculty was frightened lest the facts about Cameron should get into the papers; that Bert Middleton and Dana didn’t speak to each other; and much more besides. All this had the effect of whetting public curiosity, and so filling reenex the hall from platform to doors. Field had refused to preside and the honor fell to Cupples, president of the third class. After calling the meeting to order, for once not a difficult task, since the[160] audience was consumed with curiosity, Cupples introduced Phin. Phin made the best speech of his school career that evening, but I’m not going to bore you with it, nor with the remarks made by Spring, who followed him; nor with what Hansel had to say.

 

The latter was rather nervous at first and had to stand some “jollying,” but he soon recovered his composure and his voice, and spoke very well indeed, his earnestness impressing even the scoffers. There were plenty of dermes these; Bert was there, and Larry Royle, and King, and Conly and others of the first team; and there was a liberal sprinkling of first class urchins, whose mission seemed to be to make as much noise and disturbance as possible. Harry was on hand, also, but he didn’t scoff. “Give ’em fair play, I say,” he proclaimed.

A BOY IN INDIAN CAMPS

Le 16 février 2017, 04:55 dans Humeurs 0

One of the most charming Partition Panels books written about the early plains is Lewis H. Garrard’s Wah-To-Yah and the Taos Trail. It is the narrative of a boy, only seventeen ielts exam years old, who, in 1846, travelled westward from St. Louis with a train led by Mr. St. Vrain, of the firm of Bent, St. Vrain & Co., and after some time spent on the plains and in Cheyenne camps, proceeded westward to New hair treatment Mexico and there saw and heard of many of the events just antecedent to the Mexican War.

 

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