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Butler's Remains, p. 232, edit. 1754. 'He preaches, indeed, both in season and out of season; for he rails at Popery, when the land is almost lost in Presbytery; and would cry Fire! Fire! in Noah's flood. There is no reason to believe that this piece was not written by Butler, but by Sir John Birkenhead; for Wood, in his Athenae Oxonienses. Vol.
A money crisis, perhaps, to throw these girls out of shop-employment, and to make heads of households look into ways of more careful managing. A mutual need, or the seeing of it. The need is now; these girls half of them want homes, more than anything; and the homes are suffering for the help of just such girls." "Why don't you edit a paper, Desire?
Sometimes we're going to have a delicate little landscape like this, and sometimes we're going to have an indelicate little figure, or as much so as the law will allow." The young man leaning against the mantelpiece blushed a sort of protest. March smiled and said, dryly, "Those are the numbers that Mr. Fulkerson is going to edit himself." "Exactly. And Mr.
It is a subject in which everybody is interested, and about which it is not polite to say that anybody is not well informed; for, although there are scattered through the land many persons, I am sorry to say, unable to pay for a newspaper, I have never yet heard of anybody unable to edit one. The topic has many points of view, and invites various study and comment.
Her Northampton life was nearer an end than she supposed when she wrote these letters; she did not spend the next year in the little farm house with "two rooms and a garret"; on May 27th, she dates a letter from New York city, where she has gone reluctantly to edit the Anti-Slavery Standard.
Nantes was sending fifty delegates to the assembly of Rennes which was to select the deputies to the Third Estate and edit their cahier of grievances. Rennes itself was being as fully represented, whilst such villages as Gavrillac were sending two delegates for every two hundred hearths or less. Each of these three had clamoured that Andre-Louis Moreau should be one of its delegates.
Her second son, who jointly with his father superintended the farm, was a man of wide literary culture and of fine mathematical genius; and not unfrequently, on winter evenings, the son, father, and mother worked together, by their kitchen fireside, over the calculations for the almanac for the ensuing year, which the son had been appointed to edit.
It has been such a long six months; and before you earn three thousand dollars I shall be an old, old maid. But if you get work here we could see each other every day." They were in the Sewards' sitting-room at Claridge's. Sam took up the desk telephone. "In London," he said, "my one best and only bet is a man named Forsythe, who helps edit the Pall Mall. I'll telephone him now.
She told it, she said, very badly, but perhaps he could get the idea. He got it perfectly. "Good," he said. "I'll give you a job. I'm a newspaper editor." "Oh," she exclaimed, "you're not Mr. Munsey, are you, or Mr. Reid, or Mr. Ochs?" Her knowledge of newspaper owners seemed to come to a sudden end. "No," he answered, smiling, "nor even Mr. Hearst. I did not say I owned a newspaper. I edit it.
You know he has taken up his residence in Venice? A pleasant crank. Venice is his latest craze. He buys glass. And, indeed, most other things. He shops all day. It's a mania. When he was young I believe he had a very fine taste. It's dulled now a fearful life, as they say. Well, his last fancy is to run a magazine, and I'm to edit it.
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