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There was a tinge of sarcasm in his voice that did not escape Kate. "You must not judge from appearances," she answered, trying to keep up the outward show of indignation which inwardly she did not feel. "Jeff and I may hide a passion that burns like a volcano. All lovers are not demonstrative, you know."

"Snort thyself!" growled Roger. "Nay, I had rather talk." "I had rather be silent." "Excellent, Roger; so will I talk for thee and me. First will I show three excellent reasons for happiness videlicit: the birds sing, I talk, and Garthlaxton burns. "I would thou did'st burn with it," growled Roger. "But here is a deed shall live when thou and I are dust, archer!"

I have allowed no air to get to it, save round the outside of the flame, and it does not burn well. I cannot admit more air from the outside, because the wick is large; but if, as Argand did so cleverly, I open a passage to the middle of the flame, and so let air come in there, you will see how much more beautifully it burns. If I shut the air off, look how it smokes; and why?

The burgesses met, and Dinwiddie made them an opening speech, inveighing against the aggressions of the French, their "contempt of treaties," and "ambitious views for universal monarchy;" and he concluded: "I could expatiate very largely on these affairs, but my heart burns with resentment at their insolence.

It pointed forward to the hour when these labours should be overpast, to the return voyage, and to many a meeting in the sanded inn, when those who had parted in the spring of youth should again drink a cup of kindness in their age. Had not Burns contemplated emigration, I scarce believe he would have found that note.

I always take my meals in a restaurant, because I loathe boarding-houses. By chance, too, I am later than usual. A little lady whom you know, Miss Hahlström, visited the studio with Mr. Franck and kept me three quarters of an hour longer than I am accustomed to stay." "Do you take your meals alone, Miss Burns?" "Yes," she said, somewhat taken aback at the abrupt question.

We have chosen the five preceding poets, Gray, Goldsmith, Cowper, Burns, and Blake, as the most typical and the most interesting of the writers who proclaimed the dawn of Romanticism in the eighteenth century. With them we associate a group of minor writers, whose works were immensely popular in their own day.

When they were nearing the house, Judy stopped again, and, for a long minute, looked silently out over the moonlit river, while Brian stood watching her. "Hit is pretty, ain't hit, Mr. Burns?" she said at last. Funny, I couldn't never see hit that a-way before, ain't hit?" "Yes, Judy; it is beautiful to-night," he said.

"Well, I can easily discover who wrote it," said Ernest, as he cut open the envelope with his penknife. He turned at once to the signature, and exclaimed, in great surprise, "Why, it's from Tom Burns." "The man who tried to rob the store?" "Yes." "He has probably written to ask you for some money." "No, Luke, you are mistaken. I will read it to you."

He managed to get the loan of a copy of Burns better meat for a strong spirit than the poetry of Byron or even Scott.