He was so solemn and earnest that he was greeted with a big laugh and shout.
When he reached the stables the horses were being prepared for their night’s rest, and he made them each an address. “Jo,” he said to a Pacolet colt, named Jo Doan, that had lost his stake in slow time, “you won’t do to tie to; I’ve always done a good part by you. I salted you out of my hand while you sucked your mammy; you know what you promised me before you left home (alluding to a trial run), and now you have thrown me off among strangers,” and he passed on, complaining of the other colts. The groom was washing old Walk-in-the-Water’s legs while he stood calm and majestic, with his game, intelligent head, large, brilliant eyes, inclined shoulders and immense windpipe, looking every inch a hero. When Uncle Berry came to him he threw his arms around his neck and said, bursting into tears, “Here’s a poor old man’s friend in a distant land.”
Through General MacDonnell's kindness I was allowed to spend a few days in Rome as being on his staff, and at my first freedom took my way to the street of the Quattro Fontane and my old College.
“I daresay he meant no harm,” said the General, “if that is all. Only, he should be warned; and if anything can be done for Frances—— It is a pity she should see nobody, and never have a chance of establishing herself in life.”
Lib-by Pris-on was in that town, and there hordes of some of the brav-est and best of the men of the North had starved and died. Here, too, was a pris-on where black slaves were kept. It was the “Rich-mond Mart” with its cells and grates of i-ron. The end had come for the pris-on, the whip, the shac-kles, the auc-tion-block and dri-ver.
"I dare say," said Dicky, mournfully, "it will break my mother's heart when she has come all this long way to see me, and can't see me. And she will be sure to think I have done something scandalous. I know she will!"
“They had to have me here, by gad; I see that myself. Old firebrand like me ... couldn’t be trusted! Hayley saw it from the first—fine fellow, my son-in-law. He made no bones about telling me so. Said: I can’t trust you, father’ ... said it right out to me. By gad, if he’d talked to me like that a few years sooner I don’t answer for the consequences! But I ain’t my own man any longer.... I’ve got to put up with being treated like a baby....
Nature has set her own seal of wonder and immortality upon some of her works. The cavern of Cave-in-Rock, on the northern bank of the lower Ohio River, bears such a seal. Lacking the adventitious aids of immensity, depth, and remoteness, it was regarded with religious interest in the vague traditions of the aborigines, and has excited the curiosity, aroused the imagination and stirred the fear of white men since they first discovered it. The Cave has been at once noted and notorious, famous and infamous, and it remains today, through all the changing years and diversities of its use, actual or attributed, practically unchanged, still challenging curiosity, surprise, fear, and admiration.
Lin-coln had the same good sense that he had from the start.
The story flew from mouth to mouth, the region rang with it; nobody had any need to add to it, or to make it out a griffin or a dragon that had gripped Faith and carried her off in his talons. But everybody declared that those boats could be no ship’s yawls at all, but must belong to parties from up river camping out on the beach, and that a parcel of such must have gone sailing with some of the hands of a sand-droger: there was one in the stream now, that had got off with the tide, said the Jerdan boys who’d been down there that afternoon, though there was no such name as “Flyaway” on her stern, and they were waiting for the master of her, who’d gone off on a spree,——a dare-devil fellow, that used to run a smuggler between Bordeaux and Bristol, as they’d heard say: and all agreed that Mr. Gabriel could never have had to do with them before that day, or he’d have known what a place a sand-droger would be for a woman; and everybody made excuses for Gabriel, and everybody was down on Faith. So there things lay. It was raw and chill when the last neighbor left us, the sky was black as a cloak, not a star to be seen, the wind had edged back to the east again and came in wet and wild from the sea and fringed with its thunder. O, poor little Faith, what a night! what a night for her!
Botanical Science is made up of three distinct branches of knowledge, Classification founded on Morphology, Phytotomy, and Vegetable Physiology. All these strive towards a common end, a perfect understanding of the vegetable kingdom, but they differ entirely from one another in their methods of research, and therefore presuppose essentially different intellectual endowments. That this is the case is abundantly shown by the history of the science, from which we learn that up to quite recent times morphology and classification have developed in almost entire independence of the other two branches. Phytotomy has indeed always maintained a certain connection with physiology, but where principles peculiar to each of them, fundamental questions, had to be dealt with, there they also went their way in almost entire independence of one another. It is only in the present day that a deeper conception of the problems of vegetable life has led to a closer union between the three. I have sought to do justice to this historical fact by treating the parts of my subject separately; but in this case, if the present work was to be kept within suitable limits, it became necessary to devote a strictly limited space only to each of the three historical delineations. It is obvious that the weightiest and most important matter only could find a place in so narrow a frame, but this I do
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