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A very faint and broken voice it was, for the poor girl's lips were parched with thirst; but the loving heart turned instinctively to the great Helper in this hour of despair, and He heard her feeble cry. It was a sweet old hymn often sung at Plumfield; and as he listened, all the happy past came back so clearly that Emil forgot the bitter present, and was at home again.

Let us overcome Party passion and error; allow virtue and good sense in this fateful hour to be triumphant; let us invoke Deity to interpose and prepare the way for our Country's escape from the perils by which we are now surrounded; and in view of our present greatness and future prospects, our magnificent and growing cities, our many institutions of learning, our once happy and prosperous People, our fruitful fields and golden forests, our enjoyment of all civil and religious blessings let Parties die that these be preserved.

It was a natural survival of those anxious days of waiting in solitude for his safe return. For Mrs. Bittacy, daughter of an evangelical clergy-man, was a self-sacrificing woman, who in most things found a happy duty in sharing her husband's joys and sorrows to the point of self-obliteration. Only in this matter of the trees she was less successful than in others.

However, when they reached his own kingdom, he was so happy to see home once more after all his adventures that he thought he had never before been so happy in all his life. After one has been living in Giantland it is very pleasant to get home where things are a few sizes smaller and a bit more convenient. Then, too, it was very pleasant for him to see all his friends again.

He lived for many more years, but he never really held up his head again. Rosalie was gone! Even his children now could scarcely make him care for life. He began to hate the place where he had been so happy with his young wife. And when a distant cousin, who had long desired the little property, came and offered to buy it, D'Albert sold the home of his ancestors.

"Then, my child, you are all the happier. It is a happy day for you." Paolina sighed a great sigh, and dropped her eyes to the ground. "Then I suppose the evil wish was not wholly conquered," said Violante, looking into her companion's eyes with a grave smile. "It was this, Signora: I walked out very early this morning to St.

But not fit for History; or at least only fit in the summary form; to be delineated in little, with large generic strokes, if we had the means; such details belonging to the Prussian Antiquary, rather than to the English Historian of Friedrich in our day. A happy Ten Years of time.

Martin was so genuinely happy at having his son to himself and Lansing Treadwell out of the house, that Sandy disliked to shadow the joy. "Suppose we read a bit," he suggested when the two were seated in the study. Martin accepted joyously. "What shall it be, Dad?"

He might go so far as to utter the first letter of that indispensable monosyllable; but before he accomplished the vowel, his mind would turn to some happy "formula" passing midway between no and yes. He was fertile in these expedients.

Sixty years ago George Sand wrote: ‘You ask me whether you will be happy thro’ love and marriage. You will not, I