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I saw with my own eyes Girty, Blackstaffe, McKee, Eliot, Quarles, and Braxton Wyatt." Boone's mild eyes suddenly became threatening. "They'll all be punished some day," he said, "for making cruel war on their own kind. But I can tell you somethin' else that we've just found out.
It IS Julia Eliot!" said old Lady Hibbert, holding out both her hands. "And Mr. Salvin. What is going to happen to us, Mr. Salvin? With all my experience of English politics My dear, I was thinking of your father last night one of my oldest friends, Mr. Salvin. Never tell me that girls often are incapable of love! I had all Shakespeare by heart before I was in my teens, Mr. Salvin!"
The single woman has an advantage over her married sister in freedom of choice, of self-improvement, and service to others. Says George Eliot of the wife, "A woman's lot is made for her by the love she accepts." The "bachelor girl," on the other hand, has virtually all the liberty of the man whom her name indicates that she emulates.
Grateful acknowledgments will always be due to these three gentlemen: Charles W. Eliot, LL. D., President of Harvard University, Andrew D. White, LL. D., President of Cornell University, and James B. Angell, LL. D., President of the University of Michigan. The election of a President of the University took place in December, 1874.
Eliot would gladly receive the kiss of so sweet a child as little Alice, and would think it a portion of his reward in heaven. Grandfather now observed, that Dr. Francis had written a very beautiful Life of Eliot, which he advised Laurence to peruse. He then spoke of King Philip’s war, which began in 1675, and terminated with the death of King Philip, in the following year.
He thus concludes: "It is true all the reward is of mere grace, but it is nevertheless encouraging; what a treasure, what an harvest must await such characters as Paul, and Eliot, and Brainerd, and others, who have given themselves wholly to the work of the Lord.
I remember the evening of the tailor's speech that I felt reproached because no poet or artist has endeared the sweaters' victim to us as George Eliot has made us love the belated weaver, Silas Marner.
But George Eliot was thirty-nine when her first tales were published, and she was forty before she was known to the public as a novelist at all. And so little was novel-writing her natural gift, that her most intimate friends never suspected her power, nor did she herself altogether enjoy the exercise of her art. To the last her periods of mental gestation were long, painful, and unhopeful.
It is quite a superstition that truth is always a match for falsehood. George Eliot remarked that the human mind takes absurdity as asses chew thistles. We add that it swallows falsehood as a cat laps milk. It was humorously said the other day by Colonel Ingersoll that "The truth is the weakest thing in the world.
Presently the Texan started slowly in from the field, and Springer, at the umpire's call of "time," turned, his head drooping, toward the bench. "Hadn't you better take right, Phil?" suggested Eliot. The heartsick fellow shook his head. "I wouldn't be any good out there now," he muttered. So Tuttle was sent into right, while Grant limbered up his arm a bit by throwing a few to Sile Crane.
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