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Nunc insanus amor duri me Martis in armis, Tela inter media atque adversos detinet hostes; For cruel love had gartan'd low my leg, And clad my hurdies in a philabeg. Although, indeed, ye wear the trews, a garment whilk I approve maist of the twa, as mair ancient and seemly. 'Or rather, said Fergus, 'hear my song:
Inferno, XXXIII. 94. And the exclamation of one of these poor "wretches of the frozen crust" is an exclamation that Shakespeare might have written: "Lift from mine eyes the rigid veils, that I May vent the sorrow which impregns my heart." "Levatemi dal viso i duri veli, Si ch' io sfoghi il dolor che il cor m' impregna." Ib. 112. There is nothing in Mr.
Nunc insanus amor duri me Martis in armis, Tela inter media atque adversos detinet hostes; For cruel love had gartan'd low my leg, And clad my hurdies in a philabeg. Although, indeed, ye wear the trews, a garment whilk I approve maist of the twa, as mair ancient and seemly. 'Or rather, said Fergus, 'hear my song:
Fifteen sous, four farthings, parisian, for having worn two rosaries! 'Tis somewhat dear. Lex duri carminis. Who's that? Robin Chief-de-Ville, hauberkmaker. For having been passed and received master of the said trade! That's his entrance money. He! two gentlemen among these knaves! Aiglet de Soins, Hutin de Mailly Two equerries, Corpus Christi! Ah! they have been playing at dice.
A tiny, nerve-shattering, world-shaking, little universe-rocking click and nothing more. A bad cartridge. He remembered complaints about the revolver ammunition from the Duri Small Arms Ammunition Factory. Too long in stock. Should he try the same one again, or go on to the next? Probably get better results from the first, as the cap would be already dented by the concussion.
So they had better send him, and that was all he had got to say about it. "Send him for trial before the City Magistrate and recommend that he go to Aden Jail at once, before he hurts somebody else," said the native members of the Committee. "Why should we be troubled with the off-scourings of Aden?" "Certainly not," opined the Collector of Duri.
"He is an old friend of mine, and he's a damned good doctor. Man you and I are fey." He rode to where his trap, with its spirited cob, was awaiting him, dismounted and drove off. As everybody knows, Mr. Blake of the Indian Civil Service, Sessions Judge of Duri, was thrown from his trap and killed.
Edward Jones should be the chosen one to represent England to the youth of Duri, and asked whether there were no keen, strictly conscientious, sporting, strong Englishmen available; no enthusiastic educational experts left in all the British Isles, that Mr. Edward Jones of all people had come to Duri? Why was he not a master at Eton, instead of at Duri High School.
In a mud-floored miserable mussafarkhana, without its gates, Moussa Isa slept, naked, hungry and very sad for he somehow seemed to have missed the sea. Surely if one kept on due westward always to the setting sun, one reached the sea in time? The time was growing long, however, and he was among a strange people, few of whom understood the Hindustani he had learnt at Duri.
Now I solemnly assure you that at that time I had never heard, read, nor dreamed that there was a 'ghost' in this bungalow, nor in Duri nor in the whole Northern Presidency for that matter.... "'What's the story? I asked, of course. "'Mutiny. 1857, said Malet-Marsac. 'Husband shot on the parade-ground. She got the news and marched straight to the spot.
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