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They too were classed among the Rephaim or "giants," by the side of whom the Israelite invaders were but as "grasshoppers." This, again, is in accordance with their European affinities. They flourished best in the colder and more bracing climate of the mountains, as do the Berber tribes of Northern Africa to-day. The blond, blue-eyed race is better adapted to endure the cold than the heat.
A lace cap with pink ribbons perched on her smooth, ashy blond hair. Miss Kendal talked to Mamma about weather and gardens; she asked after the kitchen chimney as if she really cared for it. Every now and then she looked at you and gave you a nod and a smile to show that she remembered you were there. When she smiled her eyes were happy like the eyes of the young girl.
Was it not in that same church that he had baptised the bride's mother, that blond Eve, who was still so beautiful, that Jewess whom he himself had converted to the Catholic faith amidst the tears of emotion shed by all Paris society?
As Porter went down the steps his companion leaned over the rail and crooked his fingers at a thin-faced man with a blond mustache who had been keeping a corner of his eye on the box. "What are they making favorite, Lewis?" queried Danby, as the thin-faced man stood beside him. "Lucretia." "What's her price?" "Two to one." "What's second favorite?" "Lauzanne five to two."
Besides numerous portraits of children, in pastel, this artist has painted portraits in oils of many well-known persons, among whom are Prof. H. Steinthal, Prof. Albrecht Weber, and General von Zycklinski. <b>WOLTERS, HENRIETTA</b>, family name Van Pee. Born in Amsterdam. 1692-1741. Pupil of her father, and later made a special study of miniature under Christoffel le Blond.
She listened with rapture to the manly assurance of his voice; her eyes dwelt with unspeakable joy upon his strong, bronzed features, his full thick blond beard, and the vigorous proportions of his frame.
The newcomer in the doorway emptied the bowl of his pipe, and thrust the pipe into the breast-pocket of his flannel shirt. He was bareheaded. His hair was blond, shot a little with gray. He was perhaps thirty-eight, no taller than the girl herself, slim-waisted, with trim, athletic shoulders. His eyes, as they rested on the still-fluttering curtains, were a cold and steady gray.
There was a big crowd there, too, at the bar, at the game machines, or just standing around in groups talking. I saw Tom Kivelson and his father and Oscar Fujisawa, and went over to join them. Joe Kivelson is just an outsize edition of his son, with a blond beard that's had thirty-five years' more growth.
One tall Swede, with a lurid flashing of blue eyes under a thick, blond thatch, led the renewed charges of applause. Red spots came on his cheeks, gaunt with high cheekbones; his cold Northern blood was up. He stood upreared against a background of the crowd under the balcony; he stamped when the applause died low; then it swelled again and again like great waves.
Although the beautiful New York society girl had remained unsullied in the midst of a city's profligacy, she still liked "to play with fire," as she laughingly said, and at the quiet words of Benson Two-Gun Benson his comrades of the border called him she had drawn herself to her full height, facing him in all her blond young beauty, and pouted adorably as she replied, "Thank you!
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