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Well, I know Frances don't keer no mo' 'bout de resurrection o' de dead 'n nothin'. Frances is too tuck up wid dis life fur dat! So I watched her. An' las' night I ketched up wid 'er. "You know dat grea' big silk paper butterfly dat you had on yo' pianner lamp, Miss Bettie? She's got it pyerched up on a wire on top o' dat secondary hat, an' she's a-fixin' it to wear it to church to-day.

Look, Stuart, see him's dear dear itty nose, an' him's grea' big peepers! Isn't he the darlingest pet " The boys attempted to be sufficiently admiring, but just as they were lamely trying to say something adequate to the great occasion, to Elizabeth's dismay, the Vision opened its mouth and yelled lustily.

But I believe he just slipped in. Don't you, mother?" "Yes, Joey." "Mother, I don't believe the Good Old Man had a grea' deal of courage. All the way Over the Mountains, he'd seem to scare at any little noise, even in broad daylight.

Dem ole bridges might go down mos' any time. An' dishyer road up yere, it mighty hard to navigate foh er grea' big hebby contraption lak er threshin' machine en er engine. Mos' eve'y year he gits stuck. Las' year tuk er day en er ha'f to git him out. No'm; he's got de rights." "Yes, but, Unc' Zenas, that wheat mustn't be left go to waste." Aunt Dolcey spoke up.

Long stubs of dead pine loomed in the dim, golden afterglow, their stark limbs arching high in the heavens like mullions in a great Gothic window. "When we git nigh shore over yender," said my companion, "don't believe we better hev a grea' deal t' say. I ain't a-goin' t' be tuk by a jugful not ef I can help it. Got me 'n a tight place one night here 'n Canady." "Ah, m'sieu', in Canada!

Ere the sun had risen the voice of the muédhdhin awoke him with the call to early prayer. Shrill and clear the notes rang out on the calm morning air in that perfect silence "G-o-d is gr-ea t! G-o-d is gr-ea t! G-o-d is grea t! I witness that there is no God but God, and Mohammed is the messenger of God. Come to prayer! Come to prayer! Come to prayer! Prayer is better than sleep! Come to prayer!"

He said to the indifferent bartender who had just served him: "'F you knew what I know 'bout Germany, you'd be won'ful man! I'M won'ful man. I know something! Going tell, too. Going see 'thorities this afternoon. Going tell 'em great secret!... Grea' milt'ry secret! Tell 'em all 'bout it! Grea' secresh! Nobody knows grea'-sekresh 'cep m'self! Whaddya thinka that?

Instead o' fifty thousand genooine plunks we will now perceed to have fifty thousand dollars' worth o' fun the Perfessor's treat, gents. He will now demonstrate his get-away. He is an insect an' to the insects he goes from here. He has stung us an' it is now his turn to git stung. I have grea at pleasure in callin' upon the Perfessor."

The prophecy in question was made public in 1862, three years after the miracle-worker's death, and was confirmed by a letter which Mgr. Perriet addressed to the Very Rev. Dom Gréa on the 24th of February, 1908. Moreover, it was printed, as far back as 1872, in a collection entitled, Voix prophétiques, ou signes, apparitions et prédictions modernes. It therefore has an incontestable date.