United States or Saint Barthélemy ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Are you glad father's coming?" "Glad! I be so joyful as a bulfinch in springtime. See how the very face of Natur' be lit up for the grand occasion." The sky had, indeed, become deeply blue, and a great pink cloud hung above the Cathedral like a welcoming banner. There had been frost in the night forming thin ice over the puddles in the road.
"Name's Nina." Braith went quietly out again. Passing blindly down the lobby, he ran against Mr Bulfinch. Mr Bulfinch was in charge of a policeman. "Hello, Braith!" he called, hilariously. Braith was going on with a curt nod when the other man added: "I've taken it out of Pick," and he stopped short.
"I understood him to be your agent," said the little man, cautiously. "He was not." "Oh!" A long silence followed, during which Mr Bulfinch sought and found an explanation of several things. After a while he said musingly: "I should like to meet Mr Pick again." "Why should you want to meet him?" "I wish to wring his nose two hundred times, one for each franc I lent him."
Eva and Leonore were in the garden, and gathered with their own hands some select Astracan apples and pears, which were to ornament the dinner table. They were still glittering with dew, and for the last time the sun bathed them with purple by the song of the bulfinch.
A slow wave of the white-gloved hand, a few gentle tips of the wand, and then a sweep which seemed to draw out the long, rich opening chord of the Dream Song and set it drifting away among the trees till it lost itself in the rattle and clatter of the Boulevard St Michel. Braith and Bulfinch set down their glasses and listened.
His agent, by name Bulfinch, a solicitor at Redcastle, came to him with irrefragable proofs of gross peculation on the part of the bailiff who managed the home farm which supplied the house and stables, and showed him that it was necessary to make a thorough investigation and change of system. In point of fact, Mr.
One of these Morse had kept for himself, four had been given to various institutions, and one to his friend Charles Bulfinch, who succeeded Latrobe as the architect of the Capitol. A sinister fate seemed to pursue these little effigies, for his own, and the four he had presented to different institutions, were all destroyed in one way and another.
Bulfinch ordered sugar and Eau de selz for Braith, and iced coffee for himself. Braith looked at the program: No. 1, Faust; No. 2, La Belle Helene. "Rex ought to be here, he's so fond of that."
Little elevated though the subject was, it was treated with graceful fancy. The kitten had evidently ceased from playing with the cotton reel that lay between her paws, and was fixing her gaze intently on a bulfinch that had lighted on a spray within her reach.
Much concerning Gray's voyages can be found in the accounts of contemporary navigators like Meares and Vancouver; but the essential facts of the voyages are obtainable from the records of Gray's log-book, and of diaries kept by his officers. Gray's log-book itself seems to have passed into the hands of the Bulfinch family.
Word Of The Day