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They were of agreeable appearance and lively character, and though every one knew they would have no dowry, they attracted all the young men of fashion to their grandfather’s house. Mihail Makarovitch was by no means very efficient in his work, though he performed his duties no worse than many others. To speak plainly, he was a man of rather narrow education.
My grandfather’s aunt used to tell what doings! how the maidens in festive head-dresses of yellow, blue, and pink ribbons, above which they bound gold braid; in thin chemisettes embroidered on all the seams with red silk, and strewn with tiny silver flowers; in morocco shoes, with high iron heels danced the gorlitza as swimmingly as peacocks, and as wildly as the whirlwind; how the youths with their ship-shaped caps upon their heads, the crowns of gold brocade, with a little slit at the nape where the hair-net peeped through, and two horns projecting, one in front and another behind, of the very finest black lambskin; in kuntushas of the finest blue silk with red borders stepped forward one by one, their arms akimbo in stately form, and executed the gopak; how the lads in tall Cossack caps, and light cloth svitkas, girt with silver embroidered belts, their short pipes in their teeth skipped before them, and talked nonsense.
In surprise, Maida craned out of the window to consult the big church clock. It agreed exactly with the tall grandfather’s clock in the living-room. Both pointed to twelve, then to five minutes after and ten and fifteen—still no bell. A little later Dicky came swinging along, the sides of his old rusty raincoat flapping like the wings of some great bird.
Shoghi Effendi was twenty-five years of age, and was studying at Balliol College, Oxford, at the time of his grandfather’s passing. The announcement of his appointment is made in ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s Will as follows:— O my loving friends! He is the expounder of the words of God and after him will succeed the first-born of his lineal descendants. Whatsoever they decide is of God....
And, besides, we can make pictures of all that you tell us, among the glowing embers and white ashes." Our friend Charley, too, thought the evening the best time to hear Grandfather’s stories, because he could not then be playing out of doors.
He found no quiet, not even in Grandfather’s chair, but hurried to-and-fro, and up and down the staircase of the Province House. Now, he mounted to the cupola, and looked sea-ward, straining his eyes to discover if there were a sail upon the horizon.
The children were now accustomed to assemble round Grandfather’s chair, at all their unoccupied moments; and often it was a striking picture to behold the white-headed old sire, with this flowery wreath of young people around him. When he talked to them, it was the past speaking to the present,—or rather to the future, for the children were of a generation which had not become actual.
We have taken some pains to find out exactly what Grandfather said, and here offer to our readers, as nearly as possible in his own words, the story of The ship in which Mr. Johnson and his lady embarked, taking Grandfather’s chair along with them, was called the Arbella, in honor of the lady herself.
His grandfather’s bitter hatred of his father had made Drew an outsider at Red Springs from birth and had finally driven him away to join General Morgan in ’62.
Perceiving that Grandfather’s chair was empty, and having often before experienced its comforts, puss laid herself quietly down upon the cushion. Laurence, Clara, Charley, and little Alice, all laughed at the idea of such a successor to the worthies of old times. "Pussy," said little Alice, putting out her hand, into which the cat laid a velvet paw, "you look very wise.
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