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Chanuncillo, from which silver to the value of many hundred thousand pounds has been raised in the course of a few years, was discovered by a man who threw a stone at his loaded donkey, and thinking that it was very heavy, he picked it up, and found it full of pure silver: the vein occurred at no great distance, standing up like a wedge of metal.
Beata and Romola turned up alone to-day, unencumbered by younger brothers and sisters or the donkey. They had brought businesslike baskets with them, and were armed with note-books to record specimens, some apples and nuts, and a couple of log-lines. "We might be able to get some fishing!" they explained eagerly. "Father went out yesterday in old Mr.
She will smile now and clap her hands when she hears." He put the pipe to his lips, puffed out his cheeks, and began to play the "Pastorale" with all his might, while Lucrezia listened, staring across the ravine at the creeping donkey, which was bearing Hermione upward to her garden of paradise near the sky.
On the banks of the Chazy and near the outlet, a half-breed, that is, half French and half Indian, had built him a log cabin, and cleared about an acre of land around it. His live stock consisted of two homely, lean, and half-starved dogs, and as ragged and ill-looking a donkey as could be found in a week's travel.
When he perceived that the dog was about to attack him, and that he would have the worst of it, he lowered his stick. "Pray don't disturb yourself," said he; "I give in." Tale 37. The Khoja and the Mullas. Once upon a time the Khoja, riding on his donkey, was proceeding to a certain place to give public instruction, when he was followed by several law-students, who walked behind him.
If he refused to have her, there 's a something he loves better. I don't believe we've bred a downright lackadaisical donkey in our family: I know him. He's not a fellow for abstract morality: I know him. It's bargain against bargain with him; I'll do him that justice.
Only a hundred years ago Arthur Young had trouble to get an old woman and a donkey to carry his portmanteau from Cannes to Antibes. I can myself remember Cannes in 1853, a small fishing village with a quiet beach, and Mentone, a walled town with mediaeval gates and a castle, a few humble villas and the old Posta to give supper to any passing traveller.
"It will not do to get down, for I should never be able to climb up again. Mind, we must take our bearings carefully, else we shall never get back again. We have neither chart nor compass. Hallo! here comes the mules' master." They had by this time gone two or three hundred yards from the village, and, behind them, at a brisk trot, seated on a diminutive donkey, was the Spaniard.
"What a donkey I am," he said to himself; "ten dollars! Well, I'll have to contest the will and get that fortune, or I can't keep up the liberator role!" Then he fell to thinking how he must invest what fortune he had anything to get that confounded robin out of his head! "I'm not going to keep all my money in a stocking in the bank," he told himself.
Sir Coachman," cried Pinocchio to the little man, "here is an extraordinary thing! This donkey is crying." "Let him cry; he will laugh when he is a bridegroom." "But have you by chance taught him to talk?" "No; but he spent three years in a company of learned dogs, and he learned to mutter a few words." "Poor beast!"
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