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It is ever the wisest, as, indeed, it is the noblest course, to defer to that which is just, with a perfect reliance on its being the course pointed out by the finger of infallible wisdom and truth. He who does this, need feel no concern for his dignity, or for his success; being certain that it is intended that right shall prevail in the end, as prevail it will and does.
A half hour of creeping in the marsh grass and thickets and he was within easy range. Then he carefully picked out that spot on the bull's body beneath which his heart lay, cocked his rifle, took sure aim, and put his finger to the trigger. But Robert did not pull that trigger.
"But you can lay to this, Doc; this gent we're waitin' for ain't committed any more crimes than a wolf has." "Ah, I see," murmured the doctor, "a man so near the brute that his enormities pass beyond " "Get this straight," said Buck, interrupting with a sternly pointed finger: "There ain't a kinder or a gentler man in the mountain-desert than him.
"Oh, that isn't what we want him for," said Harry, rubbing his finger against the edge of his spear-point. "He's probably not fit to eat." "Then why all this trouble?" asked Desiree. "Dear lady, we expect to ride him home," said Harry, rising to his feet.
"Now, young feller, you can hit the trail," put in Buell, with his big voice. "An' remember what I told you. This country ain't got much use for a feller as can't look out for himself." He opened the gate, and led my mustang into the road and quite some distance. The pony jogged along after us. Then Buell stopped with a finger outstretched. "There, at the end of this street, you'll find a trail.
It must have varied from the ordinary length to one twice as long at once. There is no other way. Where does natural selection come in? In this, as in scores of other instances, it shows the infinite goodness of God. Now, how does the creation of this long finger show the "infinite goodness of God"? The infinite goodness of God to whom?
Yes, it was impossible to sit hobnobbing with the jolly little deacon on that bright New Year's morning and not be affected by the happiness of his mood, for he was actually bubbling over with fun and as full of frolic as if the finger on the dial had, in truth, gone back forty years and he was only sixteen. "Only sixteen, parson, on my honor."
It frowned in the sunlight, grim and impenetrable. "It's Sunday," exclaimed the captain. He pointed with his finger at the decks of the battleships, where hundreds of snow-white figures had gone to quarters. "It's church service," he said, "or it's general inspection." Channing looked at his watch. It was thirty minutes past nine. "It's church service," he said.
"Hush!" said Calton, holding up his finger, as steps were heard echoing on the flags outside. "Here he is, I believe." Kilsip arose from his chair, and, stealing softly to the window, looked cautiously out. Then he turned round to those inside and, nodding his head, slipped the handcuffs into his pocket.
Take this and saddle him." Slowly, gingerly, with thumb and finger tips the ranchman plucked the coin from the open and extended palm, then bowed with the same native grace and gravity. "Come, Loring," growled the colonel impatiently, "dinner," and Sancho caught the name. "The Señor Loreeng will not ride him hard or far? It is to the camp of the major he goes?"
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