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It is nearly twenty-five years since M. Bourgault-Ducoudray, who was one of the people who fostered the growth of choral singing in France, pointed out, in an account of the teaching of singing, the usefulness of making children sing the old popular airs of the French provinces, and of getting the teachers to make collections of them.
Then in the stress of arranging classes and getting started, all her birdlike ways slipped from her. Stern and bony she stood before us, and with a cold light in her pale eyes, she began business in a manner that made Johnny Hood forget all about his paper wads, and Leon commenced studying like a good boy, and never even tried to have fun with her.
"Tell him that when the wind changes to the West, I'll find his uncle even though he be in China so long as he is still taking Black Rappee snuff." Three days they had to wait before the West wind came. This was on a Friday morning, early just as it was getting light. A fine rainy mist lay on the sea like a thin fog. And the wind was soft and warm and wet.
'I can't stand it, Harold said to Jerrie, after a week's trial with the gloves. 'I'd rather sweep the streets than be jeered at as I am. I don't mind the work. I am getting used to it, but the boys are awful. Why, they call me 'sissy, and 'Miss Hastings, and all that.
It was true that they had forgotten for the moment that they were doing scouting work; and under such conditions talking was not allowed, especially above the lowest tone. All of them noticed that it was getting very close now, for they had to use the red bandanna handkerchiefs they carried, and quite frequently at that, to wipe away the perspiration that oozed from their foreheads.
They, however, kindly assisted in getting a carriage, in which Leon was got to his home, where he remained seven weeks without singing a note, and suffering much in mind, as well as body. And when he recovered, it was only to find that Linda was gone-had been carried away, and no one could tell him the place of her concealment.
"I was standing on the track looking down, for I couldn't leave the office, when a young fellow with light hair limped up to me and asked me what that smoke was over there. "'That's what's left of the Washington Flier, I said, 'and I guess there's souls going up in that smoke. "'Do you mean the first section? he said, getting kind of greenish-yellow.
She hoped she would die before it was old enough to understand. It's a little girl. Etta is eighteen." The room grew still and, getting up, Mrs. Mundy put more coal on the fire, made blaze spring from it, warm and red. I waited for her to go on. "It seems like Mr. Harrie can't stay away from her, the girl says. He never sees the child, though.
She had thought that Farmer Brown's boy would soon join Bowser the Hound, when Bowser made such a fuss about having found the old house into which Granny Fox had run. But Farmer Brown's boy had not yet appeared, and Granny Fox was getting worried. Could it be that he had not followed Bowser the Hound, after all?
Just now I have been fooled out of half a crown by a young woman, who represents herself as an American and destitute, having come over to see an uncle whom she found dead, and she has no means of getting back again. Her accent is not that of an American, and her appearance is not particularly prepossessing, though not decidedly otherwise.
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