United States or Yemen ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"John told me there was a wreck ashore, and they went presently and roused the rest of the village; and all that day they were out, saving what could be saved. Two sailors were found, both dead and pitifully battered by the sea, and they were buried, as you know, Father, in the churchyard next day; John came back about dusk and Henry with him, and we sate down to our supper.
Sometimes I could have pitied her, she was so greedy, so spiteful, so friendless. She always made me think of some wicked old pirate putting into a peaceful port to provision and repair his battered old hulk, obliged to live on friendly terms with the natives, but his piratical old nostrils asniff for plunder and his piratical old soul longing to be off marauding once more. When would that be?
And nigh upon this fort I beheld the stealthy forms of men, toilworn and ragged, whose battered, rusty armour glinted ever and anon as they crept in two companies advancing to right and left. Behind these, masked in the brush on the edge of the forest, four demi-cannon with gunners to serve them, foremost of whom was a short, squat fellow who crept from gun to gun, and him I knew for Godby.
He will stay at Brannon to act as interpreter." "He will!" she said, and coloured. He coloured, too, feeling himself reproved. But from under the wide, battered felt that had supplanted the nubia, his eyes shone with no resentment, only fatherly tenderness. "You wonder why I do not remain," he began, "so that Matthews could be sent away. I shall tell you." She let the reins fall to the drag.
The gale at length ceased, the sea resumed its tranquility, and the wind became favorable. The pinnace had, however, been a good deal battered by the storm, and their fresh water was getting low, and it was decided they should still keep a westerly course till they reached an island where they could refit before resuming their voyage.
His daughter had glided like a broken lily into the seething basin, at the point where the waters of the cataract fall sheer like lead, and where they at once battered the life out of her bare white breast. "Great God of earth and heaven! What is this?" cried the old man, with eyes starting from their sockets.
Sweetwater caught up the book, looked it over, and laid it down, with that same curious twinkle of his eye they had noted in him before. "He was writing," he insisted. "See, here is his pencil." And he showed them the battered end of a small lead-pencil lying on the edge of his chair. "Writing at some time," admitted Knapp. "Writing just before the deed," insisted Sweetwater.
Nicholas, when the string broke and he tumbled down the bank, bumping from rock to rock and bush to bush, and leaving the red cloak fluttering like a bloody banner in the air. It was a long while before Wolfert came to himself. When he opened his eyes the ruddy streaks of the morning were already shooting up the sky. He found himself lying in the bottom of a boat, grievously battered.
There he lay all night, and there he was found in the morning, not only battered and bruised and half frozen, but with his poor weak mind quite gone. "He would never sew for the Devil," he kept repeating over and over and over again, "he would never sew for the Devil, nor for Coppinger either.
Below the girdle the body is bounded by parallel planes in front and behind and is rounded off at the sides. A short projection at the bottom, slightly rounded and partly divided, does duty for the feet. The features of the face are too much battered to be commented upon.
Word Of The Day