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I wanted the girl to be happy. Rather than be separated, I would let her make a bonfire of every bean, potato and barrel of flour in the house. As even the sun has specks on it, I saw no reason to be too critical of my understudy, whose shortcomings grew less as she grew prettier. With all the cocksureness of youth, Zura seized the domestic steering gear.
"It's Deacon Blodgett's barn," they screamed at him as the old horse spun by, raising a cloud of dust. "What did he say?" asked Mrs. Pepper, as Joel raced back breathlessly. "It's Deacon Blodgett's barn," screamed Joel, quite overcome. "O dear me! So we are seeing his bonfire, ain't we, Mammy?" "Polly," said Mrs.
"Because I was coming home from Miss Vye's bonfire." "Beest hurt?" "No." "Why, yes, you be your hand is bleeding. Come under my tilt and let me tie it up." "Please let me look for my sixpence." "How did you come by that?" "Miss Vye gied it to me for keeping up her bonfire." The sixpence was found, and the man went to the van, the boy behind, almost holding his breath.
That the Yule log was only the winter counterpart of the Midsummer bonfire, kindled within doors instead of in the open air on account of the cold and inclement weather of the season, was pointed out long ago by our English antiquary John Brand; and the view is supported by the many quaint superstitions attaching to the Yule log, superstitions which have no apparent connexion with Christianity but carry their heathen origin plainly stamped upon them.
"The battle trumpet!" exclaimed Major Braithwaite. "The vanguard of the fleet! It is speaking to us! It tells us that friends are near. Here, you men, build up a bonfire! Let them know just where we are and that we are on watch!" Twenty willing hands brought dry wood, and, despite the rain, a great blaze leaped up within the palisade. It grew and grew.
It was a desolate bit of the Cresswell manor, a tiny cabin, new-boarded and bare, in front of it a blazing bonfire. A white man was tossing into the flames different household articles a feather bed, a bedstead, two rickety chairs. A young, boyish fellow, golden-faced and curly, stood with clenched fists, while a woman with tear-stained eyes clung to him.
"Hurrah for our pitcher!" "And the best fly catcher Brill ever saw!" "Say, this is certainly some bonfire!" exclaimed Sam, looking at the big blaze. "It sure is!" returned his brother. "If the wind should shift, it might prove dangerous," he added, as he watched a great mass of sparks floating across the stream and over the woods beyond.
In addition to his severe treatment of that poet, in "P's Correspondence," he says in "Earth's Holocaust," where he imagines the works of various authors to be consumed in a bonfire: "Speaking of the properties of flame, me-thought Shelley's poetry emitted a purer light than almost any other productions of his day, contrasting beautifully with the fitful and lurid gleams and gushes of black vapor that flashed and eddied from the volumes of Lord Byron."
And then, those visits, or rather ruthless inroads, called in the slang of the place 'strawplait-hunts, when in pursuit of a contraband article, which the prisoners, in order to procure themselves a few of the necessaries and comforts of existence, were in the habit of making, red-coated battalions were marched into the prisons, who, with the bayonet's point, carried havoc and ruin into every poor convenience which ingenious wretchedness had been endeavouring to raise around it; and then the triumphant exit with the miserable booty; and, worst of all, the accursed bonfire, on the barrack parade, of the plait contraband, beneath the view of the glaring eyeballs from those lofty roofs, amidst the hurrahs of the troops, frequently drowned in the curses poured down from above like a tempest-shower or in the terrific warw-hoop of 'Vive l'Empereur!
I could tell, too, of the great November Fair in the Market Place, and the rejoicings on the King's Jubilee, when I paid a halfpenny to go inside the huge hollow bonfire built on the Hoe: but all this would keep me from my story for which I must hark back to Miss Plinlimmon. Trapp put into my hands a letter addressed in the familiar Italian hand to "H. Revel, residing with Mr.
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