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Soft-voiced Rita, with her demure air and her resemblance to Evangeline, with her crossed apron, strings and delicate features, takes your order, and soon comes the booming sound from the neighborhood of the range, that announces to all patrons, as well as to some who may be in the vicinity on the street, that your order is ready, and then everybody knows what you are eating.
I could not but feel flattered by this unexpected discovery of my nature, which was no doubt due to the fact that I held in my hand one of the works of Charles Reade on social science, called "Love me Little, Love me Long," and I said, "Of some kinds, I am." "Did you ever see a work called 'Evangeline'?" "Oh, yes, I have frequently seen it."
It seemed in another moment he would kiss me, and what could I do then? I couldn't scream, or jump out in Leicester Square, could I? "Why do you call me Evangeline?" I said, by way of putting him off. "I never said you might." "Foolish child! I shall call you what I please. You drive me mad. I don't know what you were born for. Do you always have this effect on people?" "What effect?"
I came over because he's come for his shirt. He says he's goin' to begin a new story, an' he always has to have a clean shirt on. An' his hair cut he's got it cut. I guess that bosom'll match his hair all right! It's perfectly lovely!" "What did you do with Elly Precious, Evangeline Flagg!" demanded Stefana. "That's it that's why I got to hurry back.
Take a modern instance. Suppose Evangeline had lived in this valley! Or some simple Gretchen about whose simple story all the world is in sympathy!" "Or," thought Philip, "some Evelyn." But he replied, looking at Evelyn, "I believe that any American community usually resents being made the scene of a romance, especially if it is localized by any approach to reality."
It should speak of the bride, or to the bride, or of and from the friend, intimately associating the gift with past impressions, with personal tastes, and future hopes felt by both. The gift should always be a dear reminder of the giver; a picture, Evangeline or Beatrice; something you have both of you loved to look at, or would love to.
"Ay," said Fleda laughing, "suppose her affection is wasted on an object that has none?" "My dear Fleda!" said Mrs. Evelyn with a funny expression, "that can never be, you know don't you remember what your favourite Longfellow says 'affection never is wasted'? Florence, my love, just hand me 'Evangeline' there I want you to listen to it, Mr. Stackpole here it is
Neither of them shows any sign of being particularly American, though Longfellow, in "Evangeline" and "Hiawatha," and the "New England Tragedies," sought his topics in the history and traditions of the New World. To me "Hiawatha" seems by far the best of his longer efforts; it is quite full of sympathy with men and women, nature, beasts, birds, weather, and wind and snow.
The hot air danced over the golden stillness of the land, farm after farm was left behind, each reminding Margaret of German Idyls of Herman and Dorothea of Evangeline. From this waking dream she was roused. It was the place to leave the train and take the fly to Helstone. And now sharper feelings came shooting through her heart, whether pain or pleasure she could hardly tell.
An' Elly Precious knows she's comin', I know he knows. Tickle him an' see how pleased he is!" Without comma or semicolon, to say nothing of periods, Evangeline panted on. Out of breath at last, her voice sat down an instant, as it were, to rest. It was up again in a moment. "To-morrow is most to-day! It'll be to-day to-morrow! Oh, mercy gracious me!
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