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Francois wore a wide blue ribbon round his pink and chubby neck; and his dinner consisted of a big bowlful of bread and milk. Presently the Duchessa stepped forth from her ambush, into the sun, and laughed. "What a sweetly pretty scene," she said. "Pastoral idyllic it reminds one of Theocritus it reminds one of Watteau." Peter threw his cigarette into the river, and made an obeisance.
There it is, just as good as mother's," she exclaimed, as she gave a final taste and poured out a bowlful. Some half dozen children followed the boys and soon circled about a frightened Indian lad stretched on the ground. In a trice, Susan had propped him up and was feeding him with the stew, which seemed to revive him.
Then I took the bowl, and cast a bowlful of water upon the slab, and immediately I heard a mighty peal of thunder, so that heaven and earth seemed to tremble with its fury. And after the thunder came a, shower; and of a truth I tell thee, Kay, that it was such a shower as neither man nor beast could endure and live.
Then she got an empty bottle, filled it from the kettle, and put it to his feet; and finally she brought a bowlful of warm water and a bit of towel, and, sitting down by him, she washed the blood and dirt away from his face and hand, and smoothed down the tangled black hair.
But that would have been impossible. She could not have stood the journey for the second time that night, even on horseback behind the doctor, as she had planned. She drank a second bowlful of herb tea, and went to bed with a hot stone at her feet, and a great many blankets and coverlids over her. The next morning, Captain Lovejoy carried her home.
Next take a bowlful of strong yellow dye, and pour in a great spoonful or more of the blue composition, stir it up well with a clean stick, and dip the articles you have already coloured yellow into it, and they will take a lively grass-green. This is a good plan for old bombazet-curtains, dessert-cloths, old flannel for desk coverings, &c.
ONCE upon a time so long ago that everybody has forgotten the date in a city in the north of Europe with such a hard name that nobody can ever remember it there was a little seven-year-old boy named Wolff, whose parents were dead, who lived with a cross and stingy old aunt, who never thought of kissing him more than once a year and who sighed deeply whenever she gave him a bowlful of soup.
She poured me out a bowlful of milk, and, handing me the loaf, begged me to break from it such a piece as I liked. Then she filled from the wine-jug two silver goblets of grotesquely graceful workmanship. "You have never drunk wine like this!" she said. I drank, and wondered: every flower of Hybla and Hymettus must have sent its ghost to swell the soul of that wine!
At first he sent a bowlful of these jewels for so they were to the Sultan, who was amazed at their richness, and said to Aladdin's mother: "Your son shall have his wish, if he can send me, in a week, forty bowls like this, carried by twenty white and twenty black slaves, handsomely dressed." He thought by this to keep what he had got, and to hear no more of Aladdin.
In order to refresh myself afterward, I swallowed a bowlful of cider, and I began to bounce around as if possessed. "I was very light on my feet. The boys, delighted, were watching me and trying to imitate me; the girls all wished to dance with me, and jumped about heavily with the grace of cows.
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