There, for an instant, the great dog stood; ears cocked, head inquiringly on one side; looking down upon the ledge. Cyril shrank to a quivering little heap of abject terror, at sight of the indistinct animal shape looming mountain-high above him.
It was late in September when I reached Catania, on the eastern side of Sicily. The city lies at the foot of Mt. Ætna on the edge of the sea. Above it looms the vast bulk of the volcano, its slopes girdled with gardens and vineyards that mount, one terrace above the other, until they lose themselves in the clouds. A wide and fertile valley below the city to the south, through which the railway descends from the mountain to the sea, seemed, as did Mt. Ætna itself, like one vast vineyard.
"I'm afraid I can't come," said Trixie ruefully. She knew that George disapproved of Mrs. Roy.
George was still in his chair when Trixie entered the room. At the far end she could see his head and shoulders silhouetted against the opposite open door. The lamps had not yet been lighted, and a powerful electric fan kept the air in motion, creating a semblance of coolness. Was he asleep? She stole softly round the back of the chair and knelt by his side.
Once on a time a gentleman, also one of the Kirwans of Galway, was riding by the fairy hill—where all the fairies of the West hold their councils and meetings, under the rule of Finvarra the king—when a strange horseman, mounted on a fiery black steed, suddenly appeared. But as the stranger bid him the time of day with distinguished grace, Mr. Kirwan returned his greeting courteously, and they rode on together side by side, discoursing pleasantly—for the stranger seemed to know every one and everything, though Mr. Kirwan could not remember ever having seen him before.
It is a little curious how this poem became identified with General Pike. But we learn how it was from an old citizen of Columbia, Tenn., who knew General Pike when he was a young man and lived here. Pike practiced law there when he first started out in life, but met with poor success. Becoming despondent, he one night paid his hotel bill, went to the river’s edge, got into an old canoe, and drifted down to Williamsport, where he took the stage for Nashville. From there he went West, where he became a successful lawyer and politician, and afterwards wrote a volume of poetry. Those poems in which he allowed himself to be natural, such as “Every Year” and others, are very beautiful. But in his most pretentious poem he seems to imitate Keats and Shelley, and so lost his own individuality.
“Second son of fifth Baron Windsor. Married 1913 Zoe, fourth daughter of William Crabb.”
But, before she could sail gracefully off, the Lady Marian had started up, and, seizing Macfarren by the arm nervously, cried out, in a voice full of distress:
Suppose you call him "Hatcher" (and suppose you call it a "him.") Hatcher was not exactly male, because his race had no true males; but it did have females and he was certainly not that. Hatcher did not in any way look like a human being, but they had features in common.
and enormously to enlarge and stimulate the Socialist movement at the present time.
“I am speaking of Hilborough, papa.”
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